


The Dragon Tile

by IonaNineve



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Ba Sing Se, Ba Sing Se has issues, Book 2: Earth (Avatar), Canon-Typical Violence, Episode: s02e17 Lake Laogai, Family, Gen, Has Issues, I'm Bad At Summaries, Other, POV Third Person, Pai Sho, Past Violence, Past tragedy, Serious Injuries, Tea, The Jasmine Dragon (Avatar), The summary kinda spoils the surprise, There Is No War In Ba Sing Se, Until There Is, Zuko wages a one man war on the Dai Li, Zuko-centric, another is the Blue Spirit, because apparently that is going to be important going forward, more will come later - Freeform, one is too many fire nation citizens
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:55:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27053773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IonaNineve/pseuds/IonaNineve
Summary: Beneath Lake Laogai, the Prince disguised as the Blue Spirit doesn't find the bison he came for. Instead, just one door away, he finds someone whose loss changed everything. With Lu Ten alive and Appa found by his airbender, the paths of destiny shift for Zuko, leading him on a different journey to the crossroads. Personal and Political consequences abound.End of Season Two with a twist.
Relationships: Iroh & Lu Ten, Iroh & Zuko (Avatar), Lu Ten & Zuko, The Blue Spirit & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 73
Kudos: 328





	1. The Remnants of Ba Sing Se

**Author's Note:**

> So this was an idea that came to me when I read a completely unrelated fic's summary and since this didn't already exist I figured I'd write it. I don't normally do AU's but this prospect held too many juicey possible reprocussions to plot and character arcs to resist. More notes at the end.
> 
> I don't own ATLA, obviously.

This was taking far too long, the place was massive but a giant hairy beast shouldn’t be this hard to find. He’d passed through floors of windowed cell doors skipping them over as too small and ignoring the small sounds of the people within.

On this deeper level, the doors were whole, and this brought him hope for large cells, frustratingly most had been empty and unlocked. He tried the next, down a short hallway from the main corridor. It was locked. He lifted the lock and slid the door open feeling hopeful for a brief second before it was clear even in the dim green light of the hall that the room was small.

The last notes of an interrupted, hummed tune echoed off the corners. And Zuko wasn’t sure why the occupation of this cell held him frozen in the doorway, when he’d passed so many already. The prisoner shielded his eyes from the unfamiliar light, dull orange irises blinked at the intruder from behind a twisted hand.

The silence was broken by sudden, hysterical laughter tearing from the prisoner’s chapped lips. “The Dark Water Spirit,” the continued but combined with coughs as his breath began to fail. “The Dark Water Spirit has come to rescue me.” A single laugh was strangled by a cough. “I’m the son of the Dragon Emperor, but I’ve lost my breath.” Zuko took a step back, the man leaned forward toward him pleadingly. “Have you come to change me back too?” The laughter stopped as the man looked at him, waiting expectantly.

That was when the man’s words—the references to the play—and the color of his eyes clicked for the masked boy. The prisoner was Fire Nation. And if the state of his hands were what he suspected, he was, or had been, a firebender. He felt an anger at the city that he hadn’t felt since their arrival flare up. The Avatar’s bison forgotten, curiosity caused him to bring a flame to his hand to light the dark cell. The yellow-orange lit up the small, damp cell bringing color to the man’s rice-paper skin. Zuko saw why the man had yet to try getting up and leaving the room; his feet were encased in the rocky material the Dai Li used as gloves and cemented to the floor. The man gazed at the flame with the hungry expression of a starved man presented food. And in the flickering light his eyes glowed amber as though brought back to life.

Breaking his gaze away and up toward the masked face, he asked in a voice trying not to be hopeful, “Does this mean Ba Sing Se has fallen? How much longer did the Siege last?”  
The implications of his questions froze Zuko’s blood. It couldn’t be that he’d been here that long. His silence seemed to give the man time to think about what was in front of him.   
“No. You’d be in uniform. So who is the spirit?” 

Zuko didn’t want to look at the man’s hands, the thought of the sight pushed burning bile into the back of his throat; so he brought his eyes to the face, looking at him now with a harder expectation. The eyes burned in the firelight, the hollowness of the eye sockets spoke to a prolonged lack of proper food. The lower half of his face was largely covered by a dark, tangled beard and moustache.

“Who are you?” he demanded. Frustration rippled the prisoner’s forehead in a familiar pattern. 

The hollowed-out face brought a facade of age to the eyes that pricked at something from his childhood. Azulon’s sunken eyes. Uncle’s now-familiar annoyed creases, the Siege, eyes of golden amber. And was there something he knew in the voice?

“Speak!” 

The shout jarred the conclusion he had not quite come to from his lips, “Lu Ten?” The shock extinguished the flame in his hand as it falls to his side.

The man didn’t respond, only blinked, surprised at the name.

Zuko’s heart rate sky-rocketed. No, no, it wasn’t possible. He was dead. His fists clenched at his side. “Are- Are you Prince Lu Ten, son of Iroh?” he asked. 

The man nodded, slowly. 

Zuko gasped, the air sticking in his tight throat; behind the mask he blinked back a stinging in his eyes. “Prove it!” the words gritted out.

“How?” The man asked, tone tired and dejected. “What can I say that would prove it?”

He didn’t know, he hadn’t thought that far ahead when he asked. He stayed silent.

“Tell me, is my father well?”

“You’ve been thought dead for six years,” it wasn’t really an answer, but he didn’t know how to explain the last six years or their current circumstances. 

His eyes closed and head bowed to one side as though to hide the grief, it was another familiar gesture.

The Blue Spirit drew the dual dao from the sheath across his back and entered the cell. The prisoner—Lu Ten—shifted back, staring with some hesitancy at the armed approach. The spirit-masked figure knelt and used the blades to pry at the stone binding his feet. The dirt—almost stone—came off in clumps, once enough was gone the man’s feet slid out and he brought them under him. Supported by the wall, he rose shakily until he stood. He tried to walk out the door, but after only a few steps his knees gave out under him. Before he could collapse fully, the masked spirit caught him, put a thin arm over his shoulders, and stood. 

He was shaking with anger as he supported his cousin. His cousin, who he remembered as his idol growing up, who had been a powerful firebender capable of one day rivaling his own father, who been the model prince and strong warrior, the pride of the Royal Family and the Nation. It pained him to see that same person barely able to stand, and unable to bend or fight. He hated this place, he hated the Dai Li, the whole city, the Earth Kingdom for what they’d done. 

The pair made it to the doorway, thankfully it was wide. But they stopped upon the sight that met them. Uncle Iroh stood against the opposite wall of the hall, eyes wide and tears running steadily down into his beard. He must have been there for some time in impressive silence to go unnoticed.

In a rush forward Iroh embraced Lu Ten tightly. The Blue Spirit slipped away to the side feeling like an intruder upon the reunion.

“Dad?” Lu Ten asked in near disbelief that this was real, but there was no denying the arms around him.

“My dear boy.” A few inches appeared between them so Iroh could take his son’s face in his hand, looking at it with the same expression that the son had earlier looked at the flame. “I thought I had lost you. Lost you to my own foolishness. When I saw the rocks fall…” he couldn’t finish the sentence.

Zuko had never heard how Lu Ten was supposed to have died. The letter hadn’t given details, and he’d never wanted to ask Uncle directly. But he’d never imagined that he’d witnessed it.

“As the stone was coming down toward me, the earth swallowed me,” he looked momentarily at the dim stone walls all around them, “and it has yet to spit me out.”  
“You’re safe now. And we’ll be getting you out.”

The embrace recommenced. After a moment, Lu Ten broke off, a hand remaining on his father’s shoulder for stability as he faced their still-masked companion. With a formal, if unsteady, bow he asked, “Would you mind telling me to whom I owe my freedom? While it would be a great honor to be rescued by a spirit, the Dark Water Spirit isn’t known for his altruism, nor is he a firebender.”

“Appa!” A young high-pitched voice bounced like its owner off the walls of the underground prison. The source was close. 

Suddenly reminded of his reason for being down here, Zuko’s head whipped around to look at the end of the hall. He took a step forward. He’d been only one cell away.

“Zuko, no.” Uncle’s voice called, volume low but tone firm.

“Zuko?” Lu Ten repeated, ignored, looking disbelieving at the masked figure who was now as tall as him.

“But I-”

“But what? What are you going to do now? You’re too late. What is your plan, exactly? To run in like a fool, to face five warriors, three of whom have defeated you individually before?”

Beneath the mask, his face burned red in shame at his inadequacy. “I’d think of something,” he said with the little false bravado he could manage.

“Like you thought of something at the North Pole? You don’t think these things through, and its almost gotten you killed!”

Lu Ten watched the interaction with an expression of growing concern, bordering on horror.

“I have to-“

“No. You’ve been told that you must. You only have to do what you feel is right, what you want! So what do you want?”

The bison had been held so close. If he had just opened that one. But then he wouldn’t have found Lu Ten. And now his plan was shot, he couldn’t use the animal as bait, the Avatar and group had been reunited. Uncle was right, rushing in now would end poorly. And knowing his luck the Dai Li would be here any moment. But he’d had a plan, and like so many before it, it had fallen apart in his hand, He just wanted to go home. Why did the universe seem so determined to prevent it? Why was he such a failure? If he went after the Avatar now he’d leave Uncle and Lu Ten to get out on their own, defenseless against any guards. If he let the Avatar go, he’d be letting his chance—to go home to regain his place in the world—slip through his fingers again, like in the southern waters, on Kyoshi, in Roku’s Temple, on the river bank, during the storm, at the stronghold, at the North Pole. So many failures. In a way, in the end, this was a choice between family and family. But it was a choice he’d made before and he would not abandon family when he had chosen his crew before.

A frustrated scream, as he painfully slammed a fist into the wall, was drowned out by the happy grumble of the freed bison. He took a few deep breaths and pushed up his mask, facing his uncle. 

“Fine. Let’s go. The Dai Li will be coming soon.” He moved to take back his role as crutch.

Lu Ten was looking at him, his gaze shifting to one side in the way that most did. “Zuko. What-?”

He turned his head to hide the left side. “Later,” he mumbled, taking the position so that his good side faced his cousin. They began moving down the hall.

“You made the right choice, nephew.” Iroh said gently with a proud smile.

“At least I know they’ll still be in the City.”

Uncle shook his head slightly, sighing.

They reached the main corridor, and back the way they’d come. Behind them there was the distant form of something large and white and the echo of happy muttering. Zuko ground his teeth.

“Grandfather still lives then?”

Zuko and Iroh glanced at each other. “No.”

“Then how-” he glanced at the conflicted expressions on either side of him and cut off his own question. “Later, I get it.”


	2. Pawing the Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confusion and tension rise as the reunited trio begin to get settled with their new situations. They've all got issues, and some of them need aired out.   
> Zuko has a decisive encounter with the Dai Li.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally the first part of a chapter but it started getting long so I figured I'd split it here. 
> 
> There's some brief (two/three sentences) detailed description of the state of Lu Ten's hands near the middle, its not gory or particularly graphic but if you're squimish about that sort of thing this is your warning.
> 
> Thank you everyone who left a comment (I'm not great at replying but they mean alot).  
> Hope you enjoy this chapter.
> 
> I still don't own ATLA, and this disclaimer will apply to all future chapters.

By the time they arrived at their apartment in the Lower Ring, Lu Ten had fallen asleep and been carried the rest of the way. It was more than he’d exercised or certainly walked in half a decade. He was painfully light, not much heavier than the twelve-year-old Avatar.

Sneaking into the complex with an unconscious body in early evening was an adventure all its own. But they had managed it, and Lu Ten was deposited on one of the beds, Zuko’s specifically. Dropping the mask and swords by the foot of the bed, he changed into normal clothes. But, once that was accomplished, he felt too tired to do anything else, so he took a place on the floor and slept as well.

He awoke just after dawn the next morning to warm, loud laughter that he happily recognized as Lu Ten’s.

“What?” He asked, half annoyed, uncertain whether it was because he’d been woken up or because of being laughed at.

Lu Ten was sitting up in bed, his back resting against the wall, and a cup held between his hands that had been filled from the pitcher on the side table. “Oh, nothing. I was just thinking it’s funny that you chose that mask.”

He picked up the mask that was lying next to him and looked at it then back up. “Why?”

“The Dark Water Spirit is a minor ocean spirit, connected to those hidden dangers of the ocean, like riptides offshore. Some say such dangers are impossible to see because the Dark Water Spirit’s face was stolen. It’s just funny that you should wear the face of a spirit that once tried to take you.” At Zuko’s blank expression he elaborated, “Well you were pretty young, Azula was just an infant. The family was on Ember Island, at the beach one day, you’d rescued a turtle-crab from a hawk-gull but you hung around by the surf too long and the tide came in sweeping you out. Uncle Ozai rushed to swim out to get you.”

Zuko looked down at the mask. There was a time when his father actually cared about him, before he was lucky to be born, before he’d proved himself a disappointment. He could return to such a time, if he just proved himself worthy of the second chance.

Uncle came in, beaming and carrying breakfast for the three of them. “There’s a couple days before we move, so you have time to rest up.” He said, distributing the bowls.

“Where are we?” Lu Ten asked the room.

“The Lower Ring.”

“But the city hasn’t fallen.” His forehead creased in confusion. “Is the Siege on-going? Is this an infiltration base-house? But Zuko can’t be in the army, he’s only sixteen.” Then turning his head to face Zuko, “Right, six years, you’re sixteen?” 

Zuko nodded. 

“And that’s no job for a general.” Lu Ten took a good look at his father, who certainly no longer looked like much of a general; he’d grayed quickly after his return from Ba Sing Se. “If Grandfather is dead, why aren’t you Fire Lord?” His frustration had grown as he sunk deeper into the spiral of confusion. “And what happened to Zuko’s face?” The last question was accompanied by a large waving gesture in the teen’s direction.

“All will be explained in due time.” Iroh said calmly, lowering his bowl to his lap. “It has been a long six years and much has changed.” 

Lu Ten took a deep breath and continued in a calmer voice. “So who is Fire Lord? Uncle Ozai? Or did the dynasty fall?”

“Ozai.”

“But why did it—Oh, because I died.” There was a pause. “The Siege?”

“The Six-hundred-day Siege. My greatest military defeat.” Iroh bowed his head slightly in the way Zuko had seen him do anytime the end of the Siege was brought up.

“Defeat? The Inner Wall was breached.”

“After—In my grief, I lost the fire of war and called a retreat. The Siege was abandoned and I went home in shame, and retired.” 

“You just gave up? After nearly two years? When we had their food source in flames and had just gotten into the residential part of the city? We had the upper hand!” Zuko had spoken badly to his uncle in the past, but he couldn’t imagine speaking so heatedly to his father as Lu Ten was, his eyes widened as he watched the interaction. But Uncle, as always looked unfazed.

“And it had been gained at what cost? Not just you, but the sons of many other men on both sides. And for what? Some land, part of a city. I had been raised on war, it was our duty; at last I saw the pointless destruction it left in its wake. It was a lesson you had tried to teach me.” He spoke in a tone, Zuko knew well, it was the philosophical-teaching voice that had tried to instill many an opaque proverb.

“Yes, I was tired, I was disillusioned; that was hardly the best way to spend one’s first two years in the army, burning our way through the countryside then watching men be thrown against a wall, it was hard. But you know what else was hard? Rotting in a dark cell: broken, knowing that my capture wasn’t known, that my only hope was to be found in the aftermath of victory. But I had hope, in you, the Dragon of the West who had been chosen for that battle because he was as persistent as the city’s walls. You would conquer the city as you’d always told me it was your destiny to. Six years and that victory I waited for would never come because you’d left.” Lu Ten’s tone was a mixture of burning anger and a sad tiredness, the two vying for dominance. Firebenders were known for their tempers, often fiery and explosive, but this was different, this was like a house fire, steadily consuming all that was precious until it collapsed and put itself out. Zuko wasn’t even certain this was anger but it was eating away at the man, visibly draining him even as the object of ire wilted next to him. 

“I’m sorry.”

“We would have followed you if it meant holding that ground for two more years or ten. We were proud to serve, and proud to die for the Nation’s honor. Because all the pain and blood would mean something, bring about an after that made it all worth it.”

“I am flattered by the faith my men had in me. They followed me home afterall. And I hope that those who made it back found a meaningful after.” Uncle’s voice was so calm, like he’d long ago come to terms with the consequences of that decision. “I did what I thought was right, what was right, but by that I failed you. It is the fate of every father to one day disappoint his son, I am sorry that this was at such cost to you.”

Lu Ten was silent, his breath shaky, and gaze unwilling to focus anywhere but straight in front of him. A tension in his wrists shows that he would’ve balled his fists if he could. Processing this rather emotional confrontation on top of the preceding realization of the changes, to the political landscape and his father’s life, all due to his absence, must have been hard. Slowly he regained control of his breathing. But something remained unresolved in the air. Then his eyes shifted to his younger cousin still sitting on the floor, eyes averted from the intimate conversation. 

“How are Aunt Ursa and Cousin Azula?” It was an awkward segway.

“Azula’s Azula.” Zuko mumbled then took the opportunity of his bowl being empty to leave the room. Behind him he could hear the conversation continuing.

“Did I say something wrong?” A soft confusion tainted his voice and temporarily cut through the tension between the room’s occupants.

“Your death was a turning point in many lives. And his perhaps more than most. I never found out what happened, but by the time I returned, Ursa was gone and my brother most unwilling to discuss the matter.”

“Oh.” Here he walked out of earshot. 

Was that right? Had Lu Ten’s death been the start of everything? If he’d escaped his fate would his mother never have left? Father wouldn’t have become Firelord. He would never had reason to want to be in that war meeting. Growing up, his older cousin had been a central figure and now it seems his life still spun on that axis. It wasn’t Lu Ten’s fault he hadn’t come back, and knowing the ways in which he was restrained he couldn’t be blamed for not escaping either. No, that was on the Dai Li and Earth Kingdom. 

He realized Lu Ten hadn’t touched his breakfast at all, he looked down at his bowl and the chopsticks. He’d disappeared rather rudely so to make up for it and ensure no one thought he was mad, he got a spoon from the kitchen. Returning to the room, which was stewing in an awkward silence, he slipped the handle across Lu Ten’s palm secured under the thumb. He received a nodded bow of thanks. Knowing the discomfort of stares, he avoided holding his gaze on the hands or watching him eat, but he’d had a good enough look at them regardless. The scar tissue was minor, but the shape was all wrong. There was an unnatural bend in the hand below the knuckles, each joint was swollen and uneven. The fingers were pressed together, some tucked under or over others; the best motion seemed to be in the thumb, while the others seemed to lack any ability to move from their slightly crab-clawed position.

He saw the flicker of a pained expression on his uncle’s face, there and gone in a flash, as he realized the extent of his son’s injury. Almost unconsciously his hands clenched and flexed in his lap, perhaps recalling the occasion that he had nearly escaped the same hobbling.

Lu Ten was apparently less well-versed in the courtesy Zuko had shown him, as he felt an un-wavering gaze on the left side of his face. Preempting the return of the question, he said “I’m going out.” He left the room quickly, picking up the swords and pushing the mask under the bed, then continued out through the apartment building.

\----------

Outside on the street, he started to just walk through the neighborhood. There was very little he’d miss about this place though the prospect of returning to a place of relative luxury almost seemed worse. Years of discomfort in one degree or another had been the constant reminder of his exile and homeless status. Being in the upper crust, amid the comforts he’d so longed for and high-society manners he had been drilled in, surrounded by familiar things but not being home would just feel wrong. So long he’d connected the ideas. It would just be another taunt of the universe still keeping his goal at arms length.

He found himself by the fountain, half-surprised he’d managed to find it after only one visit. That night had been… nice, it had been normal in a way he’d never experienced. But he desperately didn’t want to make a life here, no matter how content Uncle seemed about it. He had a life, and the kiss had been a reminder of the last time, back when life was normal. A week before—before everything in a shady corner of the palace garden, while Azula was too distracted trying to be better than Ty Lee at gymnastics to notice that her other friend and brother had wandered off, he and Mai had had their first and only kiss. That probably meant nothing now, three years later a childhood crush would be forgotten, she’d probably moved on to someone else, someone who was there, unmarred, and not wanted as a traitor. 

People were starting to pass through in greater numbers, heading to the market not much further down the street, it meant midday had come. He started heading back, he’d been away long enough.

“Lee!” The voice was familiar and one he was aware of not being fond of. He’d turned and half-raised a hand to the swords on his back before he recognized it was just Pao. “Lee, would you give this to your uncle?” He handed over a scroll with a forlorn and put upon expression. The scroll was small but nice, and with Pao’s manner it must be from their Upper Ring patron.

“Yeah, I can.” The note disappeared into a pocket and he kept going.

Something, a movement of shadow, caught his eye in an ally to his right. He’d spent a night tracking these shadow movements. The Dai Li watched and were feared by all, this made them surprisingly easy to follow unnoticed, they never expected anyone to dare watch the watchers. They didn’t think to check for tails, and weren’t nearly paranoid enough. It was of course easier at night than during the day. He passed the alley a block then doubled back and slipped down it, the agent had just made the turn behind the row of houses and shops. These were his enemies here, the greatest threat to their not being imprisoned, and these were the ones who had held a member of the royal family without ransom. He was going to learn what he could about them. 

This agent wasn’t going very fast, and would notice a tail in this back alley, at the next block he entered a side street and climbed onto the roof to follow him from above. Several blocks over he watched the agent silently enter a house through the front door. 

It wasn’t until he was on top of that roof did he get an idea of what was going on. He could hear a voice through the shingles. “—deserve to know that Omashu has fallen, what they’ve done to—” the woman’s voice was cut off followed by something loud but muffled to incomprehensibility. Quickly, the grating sound of stone moving rumbled in the air.

“Mommy!” A child cried out, heart-broken. 

Zuko felt useless, and shaken, it had happened quickly not like the simple arrest of Jet in front of Pao’s, disappeared from inside her own home, in broad daylight, was evil. Frozen for a moment, he let himself slide off the roof and nimbly land in the back alley. What could he have done? There was no time; he couldn’t have gotten in in time. He wasn’t masked, they’d know his face; and if he had fought, it would only put a target on his back, and not just his.

He spent most of the half-dazed walk back trying to shake it from his mind, it just hung there in the back, remarkably staying for a few seconds of audio. The most he could do was decide that he knew all he really needed to about the Dai Li and he’d do something about it at a time better suited.

\----------

“Uncle, you have a message.” Zuko called as he re-entered the apartment. 

Glancing around the room he had to double-take to fully process the sight. Sitting cross-legged in a sun-spot in what had obviously been a meditative position, was Lu Ten, cleaned, dressed, and shaved. His hair had been combed and trimmed short, the unruly beard and moustache had been shaped into side-burns that reached upward to almost connected under his nose, it was vaguely reminiscent of Zhao but also looked convincingly Earth Kingdom.

“I had to borrow some of your clothes, was that alright?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” He said folding himself to sit on the mat-rug as well, returning the smile he was greeted with.

Uncle Iroh came around the corner into the main room. “Oh, what it this?” He accepted the scroll. “Ah. The tea shop is complete and the apartment is ready. That was fast! We can move in tomorrow. If you’ll be ready for a trip?” The last question was directed to his son.

“You’re really settled here.” He said with near awe as though some of this had been explained already but the reality had not fully sunk in until that moment. “Can—when can we go home?” He looked at his father, “You seem very happy here, but I’ve spent rather enough time in this city for my taste.”

“I’m afraid that is not possible.”

“Are you being held here? Or is there an actual reason that two members of the royal family can’t go to the palace?”

Iroh opened his mouth to respond, but his face gave away an intention to be vague.

“With all due respect, Father, if you say later or in due time, I’ll…” he looked around himself searching for something he could threaten, “find out if my hands blow up if I try to bend.” He somehow managed to play the threat lightly, despite the fact that it was severely not so. Zuko felt himself wince and Iroh grimaced. Lu Ten was getting frustrated again. “I may be weakened and maimed, I may not be able to shave myself or use chopsticks, I may need the last decade of recent history summarized for me, but I’m not a child or invalid who needs to be kept in the dark.” 

“It’s not just the palace, we can’t enter Fire Nation territory.”

“Excuse me?”

“We just can’t okay! I’m sorry. I don’t want to be here either.” Zuko stood up and quickly walked away and toward the hall.

“Zuko, wait.” Lu Ten tried to get up but it took too long to get his legs underneath him, and counter-balancing his weigh on the heel of his hand was unsteady. “Zuko!”

But he kept going and shut he door to the room they now shared, it was the third time that day he’d walked out on Lu Ten in the face of his questions. But he couldn’t, particularly not this question. He couldn’t take admitting his dishonor, shame, and failure, not to him. Lu Ten had always been a better prince than him, he would’ve known to hold his tongue, he would’ve done the honorable thing and fought. Would he though? He probably wouldn’t have had to, Uncle Iroh wouldn’t have pushed the matter as far as his father had. Besides there was something sort of nice about there being one member of his family, of his nation that didn’t already know the whole story, that didn’t see the scar as something that marked him.

The thin wall, he leaned on was no barrier to the rest of the conversation. “What is all this about?”

“That is a story you should hear from him. But there is something I should tell you as well.”

Zuko pushed off the wall, he didn’t need to hear it again, and surveyed the room.

He hadn’t begun packing the other day, not that he had much to put away. While he was folding up a set of clothes, a paper fell out and floated to the floor. The lost poster for the bison. It was high quality, on good paper, equal to something from the better print shops in Caldera, which meant it was made in the Upper Ring. To have access to that, the Avatar would be staying there too, of course he would. A place completely inaccessible to people in the Lower Ring, except now they were heading there too. And suddenly he was looking forward to it. He could track him down. And this time he wouldn’t fail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Dark Water Spirit's association with off shore dangers like riptides comes from vulcanhighblood's "(Blue) Spirited Away", I just twisted their interpretation to my own purposes :) 
> 
> Other than all the emotional turmoil, I know this was mostly set up. More action and some pay offs come up in the next chapter, as will the long awaited reveal that Zuko has been avoiding.


	3. The Ground Settles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lu Ten gets more pieces of the puzzle (because they are only giving him information in small handfuls), slight confusion ensues.  
> Zuko's night-time adventures result in him accidently starting a one-man war on the Dai Li  
> The cousins have a heart to heart at 2 am.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a little later than I meant to get it out, it ran long and I hit a speedbump over the holiday weekend.   
> Hopefully the next one won't expand unexpectedly and I can get it out faster.
> 
> What does this fic need more of? Talking!!  
> Last chapter was mostly focused on Lu Ten and Iroh, now its Zuko and Lu Ten's turn.  
> There's also some fight scenes. (These are slightly more specific in regards to injury to opponents than the show normally did in fights, but it isn't gory or intense).
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

It had been over an hour and he’d been packed for some time. He was just sitting, watching a candle flicker without the concentration needed to meditate. There was a knock at the door. Uncle never knocked—he suspected it was from too many years in army tents—so it must be Lu Ten.

“Come in.” The door slid open.

“Dinner is being made, thought you’d want to know since you missed lunch.”

“Thanks.”

He slid the door closed again and leaned against the wall, arms crossed, it would’ve looked casual if he wasn’t obviously using the wall as actual support. “So the Earth Kingdom and Northern Water Tribe Capitals, and some child you’re after. I have a feeling this isn’t part of one of the General’s understand-your-opponent fieldtrips.”

“Those were a thing?”

“Yeah.” He walked to the foot of the bed and lowered himself to sit on the floor facing Zuko. “When I was seventeen, we went on a tour of some colonies, at least that was the official story. Really, he dragged me out to the middle of nowhere; we changed into greens, and spent the next three months wandering from village to village. Those were the hardest months of my life to that point and I hated every moment of the first two weeks. But I learned a lot about the mentality of the earthbenders and I found a way to make an almost impenetrable wall of fire. You’d be surprised how useful their grounded stance is.”

“So you incorporated earthbending into your firebending, like Uncle Iroh did with waterbending.” This peaked his interest, the combination Uncle had spoken of outside that crumbling house had been so different from everything he’d been taught, and here was someone who had actually learned to apply it.

“Yeah. Not that can do it now, though.” He looked down into his hands. “You know maybe its for the best that I’m no longer in line for the throne, I don’t know if I could take the epithets.”

“What do you mean?”

“Firelords often get names attached to them for outstanding deeds, or most prominent traits; they’re used as identifiers mostly for repeated names, or as honorifics in missives. Sozin of the Comet, Azulon Reaper of the South. In camp, the men had started to bandy ones around for the General, prepared for when we would follow him home in victory to receive the crown. The best was Iroh the Dragon Emperor.” Zuko huffed a small laugh, a corner of Lu Ten’s mouth twitch up in return. “Thought you’d like that one. Some had already started calling me The Little Dragon, hardly original or much earned, just because I was his son; if I were to be in line now, they’d have my title pegged as Lu Ten the Lame Dragon, or something worse.”

“Zuko the Burned is hardly better.” He raised his fingertips to graze the scar.

“Yeah, that’s rough. You have the capability to do something to overshadow that though. Do you want to talk about it?”

Zuko quickly returned his hand to his lap. “No.”

Lu Ten let it drop, but Zuko knew it wouldn’t be the last attempt; Lu Ten had always been stubborn and he doubted two years breaking through a wall followed by six spent not going crazy had lessened that tendency. 

“Why do you call him the General?”

“Habit I guess, in camp I couldn’t exactly go around referring to my commanding officer as my dad.”

They sat in silence for a moment. This was nice. Azula had had friends in the palace, Zuko hadn’t, all he’d had was Lu Ten when he wasn’t busy and before he’d left. But the age difference had always laid a barrier of experience, negating any possibility of real friendship. Now, that gap had narrowed, and they could talk on more equal ground. 

“You’re awfully quiet these days. What happened to my chatty little cousin?”

“I guess. Been a long time. Besides, it seemed like you two had a lot of catching up to do.”

“I suppose we didn’t give you much of a chance to talk. Well, it’s just you and I now, and I want to hear all about what has gone on with you.”

Zuko didn’t know where to start answering that, none of it was the trite minutiae of growing up through adolescence that his cousin would expect to hear.  
He was saved from having to formulate an answer by Uncle’s voice from the main room. “Dinner’s ready, boys.” 

“That’s meal call. Guess catching up will have to wait a bit longer. Would you mind helping me up?” He offered a hand, his request light in tone, even if his face betrayed a hint of annoyance at having to ask it.

Zuko took the wrist of the outstretched arm and pulled the still too light man to his feet and held on until he’d steadied. 

They came into the mainroom. In the western corner, the small shrine Uncle had set up when they came had been partially cleared away, a cup of tea sat on the table next to an empty vase and incense that had been burned at dusk still lingered. Dinner was set out on the table, plates already loaded with servings. Sitting down, they were joined by Uncle Iroh carrying a pitcher of water, which joined the other tablewares. Uncle had gone all out on the dinner with what they had in the apartment, it was a special occasion afterall—a first dinner reunited.

They began eating in silence.

Eventually, Zuko broke it. “Omashu has been taken.”

Uncle blinked at this statement. “Where did you hear that?” He looked almost sad. Lu Ten looked interested.

“From someone who wasn’t supposed to be talking about it.” The answer deflated the topic and the inference silenced further conversation. But it didn’t last long. 

“So, I didn’t get around to asking, who’s the child you didn’t get to go after under the lake?” Lu Ten asked him.

“The Avatar.”

Shock widened his features. “The Avatar has returned? That explains why you’re traveling, it’s a family tradition. Was he born to Earth then? I suppose that means there was an unrealized water avatar.” 

It was the polite option. It assumed that the Air Avatar had perished in Sozin’s elimination, which was more credit than Sozin himself had granted, and accounting for likely lifespans a Water-born Avatar had come and gone. The other option was just as likely but less commonly directly mentioned in court, was that the Air Avatar had escaped and lived out his life in hiding, and that would mathematically suggest the current one was of Water. Then there was the option which was almost offensive to speak aloud, but which Zuko had always thought most likely, was that the Airbender had not only escaped Sozin’s attacks but was still alive—having outlived not only Sozin but multiple generations of searchers.

“No, he’s an airbender.”

“How? He’s a child, and there aren’t any. Where did he come from?” 

“No idea. We found him in the South Pole.” He felt his face squash into an annoyed frown as he mumbled, “And chased him across the world and back.”

This time, the silence that rolled over the table was comfortable and they let it continue for sometime.

Then Iroh spoke, looking at Lu Ten. “We need a name for you.”

“Huh?”

“A cover name, can’t go around with our actual names.” Zuko clarified. “We’re Mushi and Lee,” he motioned with the chopsticks in his hands to identify the possessor of each fake name. Lu Ten raised his eyebrow, mimicking the curve of the corner of his mouth, obviously asking about the atrocious names. He adds, blushing, “On the spot naming ends badly.” 

“Hmm. Alright then…” Lu Ten tapped at his sideburn thoughtfully.

In the quiet, Uncle Iroh looked at his son like simply observing his existence was all he needed. It made Zuko wonder whether another lost son had been found, if he might be sitting at his own family’s table now. 

“What about Sen Su?”

“That’s creative.” Uncle said, stroking his beard in thought, then smiled wide. “Certainly better than Mushi.”

“Well, I’ve actually met earth kingdom people since we made our names.” Zuko defended.

“I like it.”

“That’s settled then.”

After dinner, darkness had already fallen and they all called an early night.

When the soft snores from the bed evened, and the louder one from down the hall had been for some time, Zuko got up from his mat and changed into the black clothes, retrieved the mask form under the bed. Stepping silently onto the side-table under the window, he slipped out into the night.

On the neighborhood’s second highest roof he waited, and watched for a certain type of shadow. A patrol passed on the main street. The man paused briefly in front of a house, just long enough to nod to the nothingness then moved on. Shadows dripped from the over-hanging rafters on either side of the marked house into the side alleys.

The unplaced feelings about earlier in the day found home in the pit in his stomach of burning anger, next to everything else. He would not stand by this time.

Moving along the roof, he dropped into his own side alley, looking across at the three lined up across the street from him, there’d been two on the other. He rushes them, halfway across the street, he was noticed and they turned toward the oncoming threat; the second stepped forward even with the front. Perfect. He just had to avoid one volley of attacks before he’d be in too close of range. Drawing even with his opponents, he ducks low, bringing his swords up and forward as though to chop between the two. It was a useless move meant to disconcert. On the downswing, the blades separated, and the handles twisted until the blade edges faced backwards. Before the two could turn toward his position between and just behind them, he slashed backwards cutting into the tendons at the back of their knees. They dropped to all fours. The third man had stepped forward, he would be expecting an inward reverse swing at his legs. Let him think that.

Turning the handles around again he brought the blades forward, starting wide. The agent glided back a pace out of the swing range. As soon as that happened Zuko drew in and rose in a lunge forward; the blades abandoned their arc, brought together tip down. The pommel, above clasped hands, was rammed under the agent’s jaw. His head snapped back, and eyes rolled white. Grabbing the collar and with a spinning push, he used the man’s forward momentum to send him out into the street. The other two were still moaning and distracted from pain.

He snuck around behind the house to the other side toward the pair. One had opened a doorway in the house’s wall and stood in the middle of this new threshold. The Blue Spirit pulled him out into the alley once more. When the other noticed from his momentary distraction at the main street’s unconscious occupant, he had to maneuver the surprised body as a shield from the flying rock fists. He heard ribs crack, and the sound of his momentary-captive deflating. He pushed his shield toward the last opponent.  
The advance was side stepped, letting him fall face first onto the ground with a loud groan. In the standing agent’s blind-spot, the Spirit moved until it was on him, one blade sliding across the inner elbow splitting connective tissue, the other caught in a gloved hand. The masked assailant freed himself by jumping back, kicking off the Dai Li’s knee—pushing it back the wrong direction. He dropped to the opposite knee, unwilling to move the injured one and nursing a limp arm.

Zuko moved to leave the alley, loitering in the overhang’s shadow a moment to check that no patrol was coming. There were two shadows, a few blocks down, too small to be Dai Li and carrying lumpy bags. Quickly, one dropped their bag and made a movement with a stick. Sword? Something whistled past his ear. Following the sound’s trajectory, his head turned to see an arrow with red fletching protruding from the shoulder of one of the first men he’d taken down. The stone fist dropped to the ground a foot from him. Turning back, bringing a hand to check that his mask remained in place, he nodded thanks to the helper, who then disappeared with the companion and his sack.  
He too fled down cross streets to find a fresh area. He’d lost his original quarry, and still needed to know where they move between Rings from. He crossed a street blind, without checking first, and regretted it immediately.

“Hey, you!” An agent was on his heels, not just any agent—the one he’d kidnapped the other night and left tied up at the entrance he’d forced him to open. This wasn’t going to be as easy a fight, he had no advantage of surprise, and this agent had seen his earlier tricks. Zuko stopped and turned around to face the oncoming agent. Form a few yards, two stone hands came at him, he managed to deflect them with the dao. The gap closed briefly during a rush in which he managed only to remove the man’s hat before the agent retreated to a more advantageous range.

He needed to regain an advantage somewhere. Disarming benders was more difficult than simply decommissioning a weapon, particularly those who were specialized. This left him simple blade trickery and distraction, if he could only stay in range long enough. He got close again, and with his right sword cutting down just wide of the agent’s center. As predicted the man moved his left side back, bringing his narrow side to face the Spirit perpendicularly. The blade passed down an inch from the man’s nose. Using that distraction Zuko slipped behind the agent, the left blade’s tip slipped under the agent’s unthought-of arm and into the pit. The man stiffened at the pain and more so as the right blade’s edge rested at his throat.

“Now, do you really want to go through this again?”

“N-No.” The man stuttered, his knees trembling.

Zuko lowered the blades and disappeared, leaving the agent to crumble to the ground in the dark.

He continued a few blocks more and waited for the next agent to pass. When one did, he followed without problem for some time. It was starting to get very late when the agent finally started going toward the inward wall. He payed closer attention as they got closer and closer. This was one of the places in the city which was given the blind eye. And if he ever needed to make it between rings, no one would notice one more shadow among the shadows that weren’t supposed to be noticed. 

The place was an otherwise non-descript piece of wall, where the Dai Li agent opened a piece of the wall that went downward. Once the agent had descended and the place closed once more, he waited sometime more to make sure no one was coming then wove his way back through the neighborhoods to the apartment. 

He climbed back in through the window, using the nightstand as a platform between the window and floor, as he had on the way out. He heard a gasp from the bed and met wide open eyes looking up at him in the dark.

“Is this going to be a recurring thing? Just so I can make arrangements to not share a room with you in future. Dad’s snores I can sleep through, random pre-dawn drafts and people sneaking in through windows I can’t.” His grumpiness was tired and false-sounding in a way that Zuko recognized as a mask for something else.

“Yes, it will.” He replied in equal bravado. He finished his descent to stand on the floor again and took off the mask. Lu Ten was lying in bed in the same position he’d been sleeping in, but stiff and almost defensive. His own posture slumped in guilt. “Sorry to wake you.”

“It’s fine.” Lu Ten pushed himself to sit up against the wall, and rubbed the sleep from his eyes with his wrist. “Being out has me a little antsy, anyway.”  
Zuko took the sheath from his back and placed it by the door. 

“You any good with those?” 

“Yeah. Good enough to get myself in and out of trouble. Better than my bending anyway, particularly since I haven’t practiced in awhile.” He took a seat on the bed in the spot that Lu Ten had pulled his legs up to clear for him, and drew up his legs crossed beneath him.

He sat casually like that, knees drawn up but not tightly, and his arms resting on top making him lean forward slightly. “Well I can’t hold sneaking out to find trouble against you,” he looked his wardrobe up and down, “though I think what you’ve been up to is not what I did in Caldera.”

“Do you recall Lai Ming?” Something of a non-sequitur, but obviously it had been on his mind.

“How can I forget?” Zuko replied blushing deeply. The girl had been Lu Ten’s girlfriend and later betrothed. She still stuck in Zuko’s memory for the occasion he’d entered one of the gardens on a walk after dinner to find the pair passionately making out, at the time he’d run away out of disgust—he’d been six. It was the most intimate and affectionate interaction he’d seen to that point in his life, and thinking on it that he’d still to witness. And he’d been painfully awkward whenever in the couple’s presence thereafter.

Lu Ten chuckled at his discomfort. “I told you you’d understand one day.” He glanced at Zuko, no longer the 8-year-old he had been the last time he’d seen him. “I guess you’ve reached that point by now. Bet you have a girlfriend of your own, probably broken a few hearts.”

“Not really. And I probably never will.”

“Why? Because of that?” He motioned broadly towards Zuko’s face. “Nah, scars don’t hurt your chances, if anything they help. Let me tell you. There was this guy in my unit—I wonder if he’s alive—anyway, had a big, long scar that went from just over his left eyebrow, across the bridge of his nose, took out a chunk of his right nostril, and ended next to the corner of his mouth, and a burn on his right temple; and he was the biggest lady’s man in the whole army, had the noisiest tent in the army too.” He gave a lopsided grin and twitched an eyebrow as Zuko’s blush deepened. “Then there’s Admiral Jeong-Jeong, he’s got two scars that run through his right brow and eye, and he’s the living embodiment of ‘a girl in every port’.”

“You mean Jeong-Jeong, the Deserter?”

“He deserted?”

“Four or five years ago. He’s one of the most wanted people in the Fire Nation.” He left out that he and Uncle were also in that group. 

“Wow, that’s a surprise. He was an old friend of the General’s; we rode over to the Earth Kingdom on his fleet. Anyway, the point stands, girls like a man with scars.”

“But those are from war wounds.”

Lu Ten burst out laughing at that. “No they weren’t! Dad let the cat out of the bag about Jeong-Jeong one night, he got his from a girl slapping him—she had long nails—a youthful indiscretion. And that soldier I mentioned got his in a bar fight, his face was slammed into the edge of a table that had a candle on it. However you got yours has got to be more honorable than either of those.”

The heat left Zuko’s face quickly and he supposed the switch from blush to pale must have been rather impressive as the smile fell from Lu Ten’s face. Honorable, in any degree, was not how he would describe the circumstances of getting his scar. 

Lu Ten seemed to read the atmosphere and hesitantly changed the subject. “So, Lai Ming, what- what happened to her?”

“Uh- She um was married to the son of General Sako about four months before I left. I don’t know anything more recent.” He looked up at his cousin’s expression. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s- it’s good she moved on, that she’s happy.” He was obviously trying to convince himself that he felt that way. Then with a curious tone, “When did you leave?”

“Almost three years ago.”

Lu Ten looked at him in surprise and asked agape, “You haven’t been home in three years?”

“You haven’t for eight.” Zuko returns calmly.

“But I was eighteen, and in the army; you were thirteen. That’s… really young to begin hunting the Avatar.”

“Uncle Iroh didn’t tell you this earlier?”

“No. He told me he had been declared a traitor for trying to prevent Zhao murdering the Moon Spirit during an invasion of the North. Truthfully, I’m not all that surprised with any of that story. But he didn’t say anything about your situation, said I should hear it from you.” He paused to give Zuko an opportunity to respond, when it wasn’t taken, he continued. “After dinner I figured you’d only been out a few months, sixteen is young but if the Avatar had reappeared, it would make sense. But that isn’t it, is it?”

“I… was banished.”

“Your father banished you at thirteen? What could you have possibly done? You didn’t kill a war minister did you?” It wasn’t the first joke Lu Ten had made discussing a dark subject. And part of Zuko wondered whether he had always done that or it was something he’d picked up after leaving to join the army.

“I showed great disrespect to a general in the Firelord’s war room, then shamed myself and the family by refusing to defend my honor in an agni kai. For these I was banished until I could restore my honor.”

“By capturing the Avatar.”

“Yeah.”

“Who was the agni kai against?”

“My arrogance in challenging the general offended the Firelord’s authority. I turned around to see my father facing me in the arena.”

“And you didn’t fight.”

“I should have. He kept telling me to stand and fight. But I couldn’t. How could I? Fight my father, fight the Firelord. I knelt and bowed, begging for forgiveness and proclaiming my loyalty.”

Lu Ten shifted so he could rest a hand on Zuko’s shoulder, the unnatural shape somehow fitting comfortably over the arch. “He shouldn’t have asked you to fight him.” He closed the motion with wrapping his arms around him in a hug awkwardly from both beside and behind. It nevertheless reminded him of another embrace he hadn't felt in years. 

“I don’t need your pity!” He pushed away, out of the loose embrace, and curled into himself hugging his knees closer to the foot of the bed. “It was his right.”

Lu Ten sat back, closer to his former position. “Zuko, it may have been his right, but that doesn’t mean it was right. What could you have said that warranted that, huh? To have a thirteen-year-old fight someone as highly trained as he is?”

“Does it really matter?”

“Yes. Tell me what you said.”

“Fine. One of the generals wanted to use a division of new recruits as a distraction advance so a better trained group could get in behind the defending earthbenders while they were busy wiping out the new troops. I stood up and shouted at him that it was wrong and a betrayal to those soldiers.”

Lu Ten was smiling at him, a little sadly. “That tactic is used more often then I’d like to admit. It’s effective in a pinch but heartbreaking. It’s awful, and anyone in their right-mind or not desensitized to it would do what you did. I’m proud that you spoke out on behalf of those men.” 

The skin around Lu Ten’s eyes tightened. The details were clicking into place. Agni kais weren’t a particularly common occurrence, but they were a formality that royals were taught familiarity with. Lu Ten would know that they only ended in a death, an incapacitating burn, or forfeiture. His intention to surrender had been stated but evidence contradictory to that ending could hardly go unseen. “He didn’t accept your forfeiture, did he?”

“No. By not fighting, I lost anyway. I didn’t fight for my honor, so I lost my honor.” That too had been a lesson, one he’d taken to heart; he never turned down another fight. “My crime had been a lack of respect, suffering would be my teacher in it. This was my first lesson.”

Lu Ten looked like he might be sick. “I knew… his own son…” He said these incomplete phrases to himself, seemingly unaware that part of his thoughts were aloud. His gaze cleared as he looked back up. “You know that was cruel, right?”

Zuko didn’t respond.

“Zuko! Right?”

“Yeah."

Of course, he knew that it was beyond the pale for most people to bend on their children. He remembered Uncle Iroh’s horror at the thought of wielding lightening at him when he was learning to redirect it. But his family wasn’t most people. It had been nightmarishly painful, certainly, and cruel; but it was meant to be, to be a hard, permanent lesson. Besides, it simply was, no amount of judgment could change it. How could he explain that his father had supposedly been willing to kill him a few years earlier—if Azula was to be believed—so really being burned and banished was getting off easy. No, Lu Ten was not ready to hear that, or understand it. He looked at the mask laying in the bed next to him. The burn was even proof, wasn’t it, that Azula had been lying; if his father really wanted him dead, he could’ve done so then, but he hadn’t. Instead he had assigned Zuko the search that he had been called away from. He’d been given the chance to retrieve his honor and fulfill the family’s legacy, to prove his worth as a crown-prince. 

“I’m tired. I’m going to get some sleep.” He slipped off the bed. Changing back into his night clothes, he lay down. There was no return of the snores from the bed, only the sound of slow, deep breaths. He thought he felt the room getting warmer with each sound, but it might have simply been the blanket of sleep descending on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who has left a comment/review! I don't necessarily know the details of where I'm taking this so reading the speculations help a lot with inspiration, and of course expressed interest is fuel for the pen.


	4. One Step at a Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trio move to the Upper Ring and have the day to themselves.   
> Travel. Lu Ten receives a test. Some extended awkwardness. The inauguration of the Jasmine Dragon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this, an update?  
> Hello everyone, I'm alive and so is this fic! I got hit with a nasty bout of writer's block on this chapter and then the end of the semester, but here is the next installment. On the upside, I have most of the next two chapters written out so they'll probably get posted before I return to classes, and I have a much better idea of where this is going. yay.
> 
> The paisho game that is described in this chapter is written based on skud pai sho (because it's the version I understand enough to write a game of). The only difference is that I changed it so that you don't have to have the lotus tile in play to use the dragon tile (which I think is kinda a stupid rule). 
> 
> This chapter ran alittle long because well, Zuko has some (read: alot of) feelings and well I couldn't say no to all of them. Plus there's developments for Lu Ten here!

They woke at dawn, Zuko drowsily. Lu Ten, who had a nearly full night’s sleep didn’t look particularly rested either, as though he’d spent some time brooding on their conversation. Stumbling into the mainroom where an overly cheerful Iroh had already set out breakfast—leftovers from the day before which were now slightly lumpier. He must have been awake for some time. The room was completely empty, except for a chest and basket by the door. 

He bustled them through the meal and the remaining preparations, and out the door, nodding and smiling at the putout landlady. They had been awake for just over an hour by the time the three sat on the train heading toward city-center.

Outside the station at their new home-ring there was a guarded check-point, stopping incoming passengers. “Papers please.”

Zuko stiffened. He and Uncle had papers, but their group was now one set short.

Uncle Iroh seemed unfazed. “Yes, of course.” Zuko really hoped he wasn’t about to witness another attempt to flirt his way through. “One moment.” Iroh set the chest he held onto Zuko’s then dug out a handful of papers. Zuko watched, having to crane his neck around the now higher load. In the guard’s hand there were not just papers—three sets of papers—and the note from their patron.

The guard accepted and look through them, his eyes flicking between them and the trio—the old man, the thin and wounded military-age man, and the burned teen. They must have made an interesting picture. It was a picture all too common in the lower Ring; but if the hesitancy that entered the guard’s eyes whenever he looked at them was any sign, it was less common and less welcome in the Upper Ring. But after he read the scroll, he nodded and handed back the papers. “Welcome to the Upper Ring.”

He let them pass and Uncle took the chest back as they moved on. Once away from the station and in the street—where their clothes stuck out as plain compared to those they passed—Zuko asked, “Where did you get that since last night?”

“Funny what skilled people you can find in a market, isn’t it?” He answered cheerfully, cryptically. 

“Resourceful, isn’t he.” Lu Ten said, there was an amused and almost proud tone to the words. Zuko, after three years with the man who liked tea and games, had a habit of overspending at ports, and couldn’t scavenge in forests well enough to prevent poisoning himself, had a hard time remembering that this was also the man who had been responsible for providing food supplies for an entire army for years and done so successfully. 

“But when did you go to the market?” Zuko asked, the hint of a whine tinging the frustration. He got no answer, only a light chuckle. 

Lu Ten had been tiring during the trek across the Lower Ring, notable by him spending much of the train ride rubbing soreness out of his legs. As they walked through the streets toward their newest apartment, he looked downright exhausted. But he kept trudging on determinedly, like he was on a long march or something. Though, he looked very relieved when Iroh said “This is it,” infront of a three-story building. “We have the whole top floor.” Lu Ten looked ready to drop—or rather have his legs give out beneath him—by the time they entered the spacious residence. “Go on and rest, son, we’ll unpack.”

“No I should—”

“Just go.” Zuko said taking the basket from his cousin’s arm, Zuko was apparently slightly longer in the arms than his cousin and the extra length in the sleeves served to cover most of his hands. “We’ve got it. Pick a room, and I promise not to share with you.”

Sparing some energy to smirk at the inside joke, he conceded and headed toward the private wing. A minute later there was the soft thud of a body hitting a bed.

They began unpacking. It went quickly and the place still looked empty when Zuko took his chest to find a room. There turned out to be three, one apparently meant as a guestroom. Lu Ten had claimed the smallest; it was the closest to the hall entrance, and probably the first he’d found. He lay flat-backed, legs bent up, and head propped at a sharp angle against the pillows; it must be a position that he had grown accustomed to over the years, because it certainly didn’t look comfortable.

Zuko unpacked his own things, which took just as little time as the main room. Unsheathing the unpacked swords, he groaned as he realized he hadn’t cleaned them the previous night, and blood was smeared and dried onto the edges and between the blades. It gave him something to spend some time on, and they came away clean and had no signs of rust from the neglected care. On his way back to the main area, he dropped a couple sets of clothes in the other room. He appreciated that the apartment wasn’t as fancy as he’d feared, and that there was no longer other buildings looming right outside their windows—ever watchful. Uncle was fiddling among the drawers in the kitchen. It was still early and sun came pouring in, he sat down and decided that he hadn’t done morning meditations in a long while. 

"I hadn’t thanked you, Nephew, for bringing him home.” He was holding a third tea cup, a tea tray being set up on the counter infront of him. Zuko tried not to see the wetness glimmering in his eyes visibily from across the room.

“It was luck. I just opened a door.”

“Nevertheless, thank you.”

“Sure, Uncle.” He resumed meditating.

Feet padded back into the room. “Sorry to leave you to it all.”

“There wasn’t much to do anyway,” Zuko said. Part of him was reluctant to engage his cousin in conversation, afraid that he might try to bring it around to what they had talked about during the night.

“Are you feeling rested?” Uncle Iroh asked, still from the kitchen area.

“Yeah,” he blushed, embarrassed by the lack of energy. “Nothing to do but sleep before and its still all I seem to be doing.” He grumbled under his breath.

“Good, go sit down. Face East, and keep some distance between you.”

Lu Ten obeyed, sharing a look with Zuko who scooted over, “He’s plotting something isn’t he?” Despite the stress of curiosity, he melted into the position, soaking up the sunlight he’d been deprived of.

Zuko shrugged, just as confused. The most either could do—if for different reasons—was breathe and feel the sun, that didn’t require space. There was the sound of spark-rocks and some fiddling.

Iroh came around carrying a lantern, the candle inside lit and three of its four shutters closed. It was set open-side facing Lu Ten a few feet infront of him. He took a seat to his   
son’s right, turned perpendicular to how the young pair sat. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t need to, it was a common, basic exercise, no explanation needed.

“Uncle…” Zuko began warily, but couldn’t think what he wanted to say. It was a clever setup, sure. The flame only visible from one direction—pointed firmly into the interior—and any escaped light would be lost in the sunlight. But what was he thinking to gain with it?

One-hundred years of war was a long time, plenty for many discharged military firebenders to come home with crushed hands. None had been known to regain their bending; no one dared try, discouraged by the old story of the one man who had tried—some 70 or 80 years ago—and blown his own hands off as the energy failed to flow through and out the destroyed chi paths.

“Father, I can’t.”

“Did you forget everything I taught you?” He said in his instructor voice, but rather as though chiding a student who had forgotten a kata after a weekend away. “Firebending comes from the breath that feeds it, not the hands that wield it.”

“It’s not just that.” Lu Ten tucked his hands away crossed over his body and under his arms. He looked cold despite being drenched in sunlight. “I haven’t bent in over five years. Hadn’t seen light other than those damned crystals. I’m… scared. To try now. What if it’s gone out?” 

That fear was chilling to even think about, and very understandable. To live in the knowledge that you’d been robbed of the ability to use your bending was one thing, but to have confirmed that by separation Agni had abandoned you in all ways, that your bending had been snuffed out entirely, that was quite another and would be well worth avoiding.  
“Fire is life, whether the sun or a campfire. It is the energy within us. You are alive, you’re breathing. Your connection to light has not been broken. Breathe with the candle.”

Lu Ten just continued to look at the candle warily, like it held answers he didn’t quite want to know, which it did.

“Just try.”

He exhaled, it shook slightly with nerves, before taking in a very deep breath. It was lost in a dry cough, accompanied by a briefly pained expression. Then shifting his weight back slightly, he breathed again, focusing the expansion of the intake to his diaphragm instead of his chest. Thus with eyes closed, he measured a steady cadence of breathes. For a few minutes it remained like that, uneventful except for the occasional flicker of his eyelids proceeded always with an unsteady breath, as though each attempt to look at and reach out for the flame was too frightening to go through with.

Eventually, his eyes opened and the breathing continued the steady rhythm that had been established for almost half an hour; his gaze fell on the flame after a few breaths, focused and reaching out to the still little flame. 

The flame flickered, bending forward slightly as though reaching back, then flared and dimmed in time with Lu Ten’s breathing. Zuko let out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, only half-aware it may have been to prevent interference, the painful burning in his chest suggested he had been holding it for some time.

Lu Ten’s expression intensified as he watched for the next few cycles to ensure it wasn’t just a fluke. Then the flame guttered wildly with a sound like a gasp. The sound had come from the man himself, biting his wrist to keep from laughing or sobbing—whatever the sound had been, either way the relief was evident. His eyes didn’t leave the wavering tongue, proof positive. 

“I’m afraid there’s not much beyond that we can try here. But now you know.”

“Thanks, Dad.” He smiled, there was something still a little sad to it, or so Zuko thought, but Uncle didn’t seem to notice, he just continued to beam.

The small fire rising and falling steadily from its enclosure surrounded by sunlight moving across the floor closer and closer to the window, as they spoke of inconsequential things: how Zuko had set his bed on fire the first time he bent, how Lu Ten had once—when very young—singed off one side of grandfather’s moustache, how he’d picked up weird otherwise unheard of moves from watching soldiers mess around and the horrendous results of trying them, the antics of soldiers they had known, tales of palace Zuko had never known. Their words were quiet, their surroundings too green and of too much stone for these words to be safely spoken at normal volume. 

“Zuko,” Uncle said at some point when the sun was high, “would you mind going out and getting us all some lunch from one of stands in the street?”

Getting sent out for food was something he would normally mind, at least grumble about, but he was hungry and he knew there wasn’t any food here. “Sure.”

So he left the flat that was only too green, so warm and home-like, but so very not his. He wants to kick something. His feet scuff along the street pavement in search of a pebble to send careening into the distance ahead of him. But there’s nothing, not a single pebble or piece of debris. The gaps between paving stones are tight and there’s not a single cracked or chipped stone in sight. Did they have earthbenders fix the road daily? He kicked the curb instead and regretted it immediately.

Whenever the two were in a room together, it was like he wasn’t there. He knew he shouldn’t begrudge them this, but part of him did. He was a third wheel, one without a home in any place. Back outside the North Pole, Uncle had said that ever since he’d lost his son he’d thought of Zuko as his own. But the conditional phrase of that no longer applied. He’d never wanted to replace Lu Ten, but he had been willing—however grudgingly at times—to accept the care that the old man had to give and wanted to bestow on someone. If there was one thing Zuko knew about families it was that there was only room in a parent’s heart for one child. And Zuko also knew that he would not be chosen when the man’s real son was present. He would never be chosen when there were others more worthy of that love, mother had but that was because father had so wholly claimed Azula. At some point, he and Uncle would split again like they had before but this time because he had everything he wanted and Zuko had nothing. He wasn’t even sure he knew who he was anymore. Mom had said to remember who he was; he’d worn so many faces lately and Zuko had almost been lost in Lee; but with Lu Ten back, the before was so present that maintaining Lee was difficult. One day he would have to make his own way in whatever life was left to him to live. 

On the street, he was reminded how the darker, brownish tones of his clothes clashed with almost everything about this ring; the buildings were brighter and better lit due to the distance between them, and there was green everywhere.

It was further than he thought to the food stands, which were tucked into side streets between restaurants or interspersed with market stands in another area. Along the way, he decided to prevent having to make another trip out later and picking up supplies for dinner, a big dinner—he was definitely not making up for feeling resentful about Lu Ten. One shop had among other spices tied strings of chiles, he’d seen these in some of the Earth kingdom houses he’d been in they seemed to be meant for storing in easy access for several months, interesting seeing as that many chilis was a few days’ worth for fire nation cuisine. He got one, and a few stalls down got some meat—it was nice having money for meat and seasonings again. After acquiring three servings of something warm that would keep well until he got across the neighborhood, he headed back.

Everything was neat and clean here, houses were well-kept, and nothing suggested danger or violence. It actually made him uneasy, not having to watch alleyways. He’d lived with the paranoia too long. Before it was criminals and the now numerous people who would love to capture him for any aspect of his true identity, it had been Zhao dogging his every move, and even before that there had been Azula to be vigilant for. So maybe the eeriness he felt about this place was just him not remembering what safe felt like.

But not everything was perfect, one thing stuck out as he crossed an open intersection of streets, he took a few steps back and got a better look at this anomaly. A house with nearly its whole side blown out and one corner badly damaged. There was scaffolding around it and a tarp hung to cover the view of the interior through the gaping hole. He probably looked ridiculous standing in the middle, holding a basket and staring at a house.

“Quite a bit of damage, isn’t it?” he started at the hoarse voice of an old man at his side.

“Yeah.”

“These kids moved in about two weeks ago. No adult in sight; hardly surprising they run amuck.”

A passing middle-aged woman paused to join the commentary. “I heard they snuck into King Kuei’s party for Bosco the Bear.”

“What kind of bear?” Zuko asked, not that he was particularly interested in the Earth King’s pet, but somehow it felt like it needed asked.

“Just a bear,” she shrugged.

Zuko looked very weirded out by this. “a… bear?”

The old man laughed. “You must be new to the area, kid.”

“Well look at his clothes. Hardly looks like he grew up here, looks like he just got off the train.”

Another woman, slightly younger than the first and dressed only slightly better than Zuko who had been hanging around the outskirts of their little conversation, joined in bringing the topic back around to the child residents. “My mistress’ daughter was thrown into the river by the two girls; I’m not saying she doesn’t deserve it, but that’s very inappropriate behavior.”

The three continued to share complaints, including the tale of the loud noise that had rocked the peaceful area when the wall had been blown out accompanied by a shout of the word ‘rules’ or perhaps ‘bowls’ there seemed to be some confusion.

From this conversation, Zuko learned two important things: which house the Avatar was living in and that people in this ring were massive gossips. Aware that the conversation had taken on a life of its own very separate from himself, he took the opportunity to slip away and head back to the apartment. 

Uncle greeted him at the door and took the basket, humming appreciatively at the additional groceries. The meal was set out, a few hours later than lunch would normally be served because of his dawdling, he couldn’t really bring himself to care, he had actual information to make a move off of in the near future, he had a route to go down, that pressing unknown of the future receded as the hope of home returned to the forefront of his mind.

Uncle and Lu Ten had apparently run out of insignificant things to discuss while he was out, so after lunch—during which his cousin kept looking at him thoughtfully and Zuko prayed no part of their late-night discussion was about to become table-talk—they each set about doing their own thing: Uncle was writing out lists of teas and blend recipes, Lu Ten gave up giving him weird looks and went to his room to do an impressively long series of hot-squats before crashing onto his bed again, and Zuko decided that maybe his dao could do with another polish and the sheath needed cleaned anyway. 

Early that evening, they went the couple streets over to the tea shop to finish prepping it for the next morning. They found it at the focal point of a plaza next to a canal, it was huge. Iroh was grinning like an excited child as he opened the doors. Even in the dimness it was bright from the light stone and white plaster from which it was built, and the bright green and gold of its decoration. The carpet that ran down the center was decorated with a pair of golden dragons—Uncle had apparently decided on the name the Jasmine Dragon. While the base color may have been wrong and the effect of gold against the green was very different than how it looked against red, the imagery was a familiar one he hadn’t thought to see for a long time. Uncle was in the back ooing and ahing over the collection of fine teapots. There wasn’t much to be done, the floor was clean, the tables shone without a speck of dust, and part of him hated that his brain automatically registered this.

The rattles from the kitchen suggested they’d be having an inaugural pot of tea, and Lu Ten had settled at a Pai sho table that sat along a room divider.

Iroh looked at the silent challenge or offer in Lu Ten’s seat and the slight tilt of his head and raised eyebrow. He chuckled. “Looking for a rematch, I see. A glutton for defeat, are we?”

“Bold words for a man who once had a month-long losing streak.”

“If we’re talking losing streaks, I recall someone who went ten years without a victory.”

“Games against children do not count for reputations.”

“If you say so. Who is the guest?”

“Well, I did make the challenge, though you are the owner of this establishment. Your call.”

Uncle sat down and motioned for his son to claim guest-right. Lu Ten first spilled the tile box onto his lap so he could move around and pick up the tiles with the meat of his palm, then planted the jasmine in his gate and a rose in the East gate to his right. Uncle selected a white jade and chrysanthemum. The jasmine moved forward and to the right into the white garden. The chrysanthemum moved along the neutral line between the white and neutral gardens to Iroh’s left. The rose began a journey toward the center. A white lotus tile appeared in the North gate, to be stationed right infront of it after Lu Ten planted a lily in the East.

The game started progressing faster as pieces moved into place creating harmonies and extra moves; the basic strategies appeared fairly obvious even to Zuko, Lu Ten was building the foundations of squares on the southern front and gathering a group of tiles to fall into place across the board, while Uncle was going the roundabout method making a large circle of harmonies seemingly ignoring the garden colors altogether.

“Did Shirou make it back?” Lu Ten asked placing a rhododendron in line with the jasmine.

“Yes, he did. And he had some words for me regarding the retreat.”

Lu Ten nodded with some approval to hear this. Meanwhile, Zuko racked his brain to recall who Shirou was, it took a moment for the name to connect to Shi—Lu Ten’s best friend.

“Last I knew he was stationed at the Pouhai Stronghold.” 

Zuko cringed guiltily at that, thankfully unseen by the pair focused on their game. 

“Oh and L-“

“I know. Zuko told me last night.”

“She came to ask my blessing beforehand.”

Lu Ten placed his next tile one place to the right of where he’d meant to, directly into an occupied vertical line. His harmony bonus turn spawned a dragon tile in the east gate without much thought. “Why didn’t you defend your birthright, exactly?”

“The palace never especially appealed to me, and that seat is mightily uncomfortable.” He tried to evade with a weak smile; Lu Ten looked displeased that his retributive jab had not properly phased the man, who sighed and continued. “As to why I did not challenge my brother’s claim, simply I didn’t have the energy at the time. He had the authority of our father’s last wishes, he had… well, even if I had, the Fire Sages would have pressured me to remarry; I didn’t have the heart to do so after your mother passed and I certainly didn’t then.”

A silence fell briefly before Lu Ten asked stiltedly how such a nice shop had fallen into their hands so quickly, returning to the nothing discussions that had marked the day. He was clearly avoiding any serious topic of the occurrences he’d missed, and keeping only to light joking in conversation with his father. These two had always been what Zuko considered a great parental/filial relationship, but if this is how reunions went after prolonged separation balancing narrowly between reminiscing on old times like nothing had happened and deliberately avoiding any discussion of the issues around what had transpired—of which there were many here even if they were unspoken after that first day—he wasn’t sure he wanted to find his mother afterall. He might prefer the memories he had to facing the awkwardness of two strangers with her. 

Iroh won, with the White lotus slipping into the gap in his encirclement between a jade and a chrysanthemum. Meanwhile Lu Ten had apparently forgotten he could have fixed the mistake in one move and had committed to clearing the path with the dragon tile.

“Would you like to play a game, Lee?” Lu Ten asked, as the board was being cleared, putting a joking stress on his cover name.

“No. I’m not very good.”

“At this version, perhaps;” Uncle said, “he’s a little robber at street pai sho.” He finished with a meaningful look at his son.

This was true, Zuko supposed. It was, in fact, the only form of pai sho he was good at. It rewarded fast, unpredictable decision-making, not designed for the long game strategies Uncle enjoyed so much—though he managed to win with that method anyway when he did play. Despite also being a frequent winner at the form of gambling on the Wani, Uncle had refused to play while they were on the road, something about it not being honorable—he always phrased it as fun though—when there wasn’t opportunity for the loser to win back his massive loss. Zuko had no such qualms. He’d won many a meal’s worth, and the occasional month’s rent on the streets. 

“What are you looking at me for? I didn’t teach it to him.” Apparently, the late-night excursions into Caldera Lu Ten mentioned the previous night were more interesting than merely visiting Lai Ming.

“He didn’t. Some of the palace guards taught me, after Mom left. Probably thought it a good way to get some easy money off a kid. They stopped when I started taking their money.” He tried not to sound bitter about that abandonment, which had been a pleasant distraction from the recent losses at the time and the loneliness of the suddenly very small royal family. He’d offered their money back if they’d keep playing with him, they had taken it and left anyway. 

“Well it’s getting late and we should go and have dinner. If I recall those groceries correctly, we have enough for something of a feast.” So they closed the shop up until the next morning, and an hour after being home they each had plates of seasoned rice, hot-rubbed chicken-pig, and side bowls of crushed pepper flakes for dipping. Tea, spicy food, opulence, and being nagged for a game of pai sho; it felt like being back on the Wani—something he’d never thought he’d feel nostalgia for—for the other two it was probably much closer to home. Lu Ten’s method for dipping bites into the flakes resulted in them being accompanied by an extra half-spoonful of flakes. Zuko attributed this as the cause of the rising blush on his face and the slight wateriness of his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's right, Lu Ten can still bend! although he still has a ways to go to work on it.   
> I've generally tried to stick to show canon (though AtLA fanon is strong and pervasive from the massive amount of reading I've been doing and fills in some gaps here and there), and I've been iffy about the fanon of 'use it or you'll lose it (or it will eat you from the inside)' for bending, we see people not bend for extended periods of time to little ill effect-- ie the earthbenders of the prison ship. I'll grant you vitamin deficiencies from lack of sun, to which I'm handwaving glowy crystal properties. 
> 
> I know some of you are really interested in Lu Ten's perspective and how he's handling all this, I've been trying to give some hints to that but this is (though 3rd person) mostly Zuko's perspective and he only know so much and isn't a mind reader. But when that season 3 arc comes around and they aren't prettymuch in every scene together, I plan on introducing Lu Ten's pov as well. 
> 
> You might have noticed there's now a chapter count on this, this story/arc will end about where season 2 does, and I'll create a connected story (in a series) that continues it into season 3. There may also be an interlude oneshot. (This will all be listed within the same story in the cross-posting on ff.net
> 
> Thanks everyone for the kudos/likes, follows, and comments, they all mean alot. Please feel free to let me know what you think of the chapters (including constructive criticism if you've got it).


	5. Chapter 5: Foundations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko's one-man war continues.  
> Without morality-fever Zuko, we meet ambitious Zuko instead.

It had been a long and active day, and Zuko’s little sleep was starting to wear—but he had things to do—he and Lu Ten went to bed shortly after dinner. Uncle remained puttering around the main room and kitchen, the occasional clatter of ceramics rang through the apartment.

Zuko had originally hoped to get out earlier, around evening; but that had been unlikely to begin with and given their evening plan and late dinner, it had been impossible. Heading back to the house he’d seen earlier, he decided he could no longer just wait for them to enter. He’d have to get close and see if they’d already settled in for the night, then stake out the door if they weren’t.

He circled around the house, listening under each window for any sound of habitation. There was none. Peeking in one window, there wasn’t any sign of people inside either. They hadn’t come home for the night yet. The house opposite was a good place to set up his watch; the roof would provide a perfect line of sight and easy access from behind any group entering by the front door.

Hours later, the moon was high and his fingers were starting to cramp from holding onto the ridge of the roof. It had to be midnight and they still hadn’t returned. Where could they be if not here? He hadn’t seen any of the personal items they tended to travel with, so perhaps they’d moved since the construction began on the house. Of course, his plan had fallen part; he wasn’t even surprised anymore, just mad at his own incompetence. 

He sighed, moved to sit on the roof steeple back to the house gazing out toward the city’s center. That most defended royal citadel in the world. Then an idea struck. The Avatar had needed somewhere else to stay, he’d snuck into a royal party without retribution which meant it must have gone well. Perhaps he was staying as a guest of the Earth King. He just had to get into the palace, somehow. It was, of course, guarded by the Dai Li, a historically formidable force of warriors founded centuries ago by an Avatar; and they’d stop him taking the current one, surely. There had to be an entrance like that one between the rings used by them into the palace. The problem still remained of the sheer number of agents. A handful in an alley was one thing, a full guard in the palace’s high ceilings and passages was quite another. 

There could only be so many agents, though, and he’d taken out six last night without really trying to. If he could decommission agents patrolling the rings, the whole would have to thin out to fill the gaps resulting in a lighter guard in the palace—perhaps to a manageable degree.

He wouldn’t let this opportunity pass him by. This might be his last chance, he was quickly running out of places he could go if the Fire Nation was making headway, even if he could make his way out of this city. He’d learned to never give up without a fight, and had come to live by that engraving. 

So that’s what he spent the pre-dawn hours doing.

There were not patrols of Dai Li in the Upper Ring, as there had in the Lower. But he now understood why the Ring made him uneasy. They did not control through presence to maintain silence; here the threat was hidden but felt behind every window, on every rooftop, and in the least threatening person on the street. Anywhere and anytime. They tended to be on rooftops, he found, or else moving around through tunnels inside the footings of buildings. They worked in pairs. A couple of these, being focused on their targets to the point of distraction, were easy to pop up behind and slash the hamstrings of. Others were more aware and this resulted in rooftop fights which were probably rather frightening for the sleeping residents.

Pulling himself onto a roof, he quickly moved toward the two spying atop it. Though these two at least had the awareness to notice his presence and begin turning over. Once they’d curled up clutching their legs, the minor commotion caught the attention of shadows on the roof to the left, which were upon him quickly. Preparing a stance in the seconds he had, he dodged the first range attack, a follow up shot whizzed past his nose as he was forced to bend back before he could right himself. One blade went down behind him to act as a third leg, finding a gap in the tiles.

A third stone fist impacted where his foot had been a second earlier as he flipped over the point he’d created with the sword and landed further back, both blades free and up. Fingertips grazed his ankle and he saw the grasping hand of one of the injured men. He kicked the offender in his upturned face, sending him sliding off the roof. One of the new opponents was upon him and, still crouched, he swung around an arm into the back of the agent’s nearest leg. The knee buckled forward and his blade folded down at his wrist, flat side to his opponent’s shin. Pulling his arm back the way it had swung, the man was tripped up and sent tumbling down the roof’s slope into the remaining injured agent, and both fell to the street below.

The tiles around him began to shift, so he stood up quickly and moved back seeking steady footing. But the tiles continued to rise then flew toward him at high speed. His blades were accustomed to deflecting blows, and he could slash through a few with a simple turn of the wrist as they hurtled toward him. He moved towards the fourth Dai Li agent, as the tiles dwindled. The first attack cleared, the agent sent his stone glove sailing toward the masked figure’s chest to repel him from his closing approach.  
Zuko brought the dao blades up and together along their edges, they cut cleanly through the hard earth, the two halves spinning off the flared blades. One glanced off his left shoulder, enough power still behind it that he knew a bruise and deep soreness would mark it by morning. The impact caused the connected blade to limply follow the arm down, but the left blade saw an opening now that he was close enough and reached forward. The tip sunk inches into the agent’s shoulder slipping into the joint, grating and sticking on the bone. He twisted the sword and heard the pop that freed the blade and the strangled expression of pain from the agent who lost the balance of his stance and fell. A cry escaped when the landing jostled the injury.

He moved on before he could be caught up in another fight on the same roof. He made it three blocks before he came across another occupied roof. The one he was on was slightly higher which gave him a good launch point. Running on rooftops had warned him of a sore toe form earlier he’d been being careful to favor it, pain didn’t make for well-footed landings. 

Rising from a crouch he brought the dao up defensively. A glove came out of the darkness and skittered across the blade and away, clicking off the edge of the roof and cracking against the stone street. When he runs forward along the narrow ridge, he finds his footing attacked from below as the tiles shift and warp trying to grab at his feet. The rail walk turns into an awkward and dangerous game of hopscotch like he hadn’t played since childhood—only now the danger was grasping earth rather than licking flame. 

As the whole area where he stood shattered into dust and grabbed at him, he leapt up fully, pushing forward. He shook off the solidifying dirt that had encased his left foot, but was forced to land on the toe of his right, the one he had stubbed and the involuntary response to relieve the pressure flattened, unevenly spreading his weight. He slipped into a crouch, one blade and palm laid flat to steady himself. The tiles under him slide away, and he had a second to plant a blade into the wood beneath and use the downward momentum to swing himself from that hand hold forward, up, and around to squat behind the Dai Li agent. 

There was another behind him. He could feel them both begin to move in reaction. His lone sword struck in a motion he’d seen many times but was not meant for this type of blade, it pierced the attacker’s hip anyway and he pulled away to the side, flipping the handle around and striking backward blind except for a sense of the looming figure, he felt the resistance of muscled flesh. Both Dai Li fell without full support of their legs and alone on the roof he retrieved the second sword. 

He traveled by the shadows on street-level for awhile, the dao—quickly wiped clean on his sleeves—sheathed. An apartment building rose infront of him, easily scalable so he took the walls up to the vacant top. On the other side, he looked down on a restaurant with a half second floor residence, and there was a pair of agents stationed there. 

Down he dropped, careful to land left foot first, and swords drawn as he falls. Good thing too because he is almost immediately set up on by a hail of rocky fingertip bullets. The shock of large impacts ringing through the metal and d up his arms was a sensation he’d grown accustomed to in the Earth Kingdom, very different form steel against steel. But this was different still, constant and each impact sang different and new depending on where along the flat. The shocks through his hands and arms almost a tingling and his fingers were growing numb. A tip that hit near the hilt was what did it, his fingers couldn’t hold it, it fell tumbling down the roof on the tiles and clanging to the ground two stories below.

Emboldened by the reduction in his armory, the agent got in close. He stayed low, ready to jump if the roof itself attacked again, the single sword held defensively across himself his empty hand supporting the tip end from behind against further debris attacks. When the agent stands just before him, and he can feel a hand reaching out to grab at something, he leans froward, pressing the flat hard against the shins, the weight and direction of pressure begins to press the edge up and under the kneecaps, teeth grind loudly above him as a heavy hand closes on his tender shoulder, the sound is replaced with a gasp when he turns the blade to free it.

The agent began to drop. Zuko made to free himself by punching a blow to the midriff now falling to his level. The Dai Li agent collapsed to the side and would have slid down and off if he’d not managed to cling to the center of the roof.

The other took a step back, trying to maintain the advantage of distance, as Zuko left over the downed opponent closing the gap less than he’d hoped. He was tiring, late active nights with little sleep between could do that. But he was very thankful that fighting on rooves limited the combat to one on one unless he wound up between the pair.

He lunged the blade toward the man, a step forward extending his reach, it missed to the left. An arc upward, toward the head was similarly dodged. The agent grabbed his wrist and began to turn his hold at an awkward angle for the joint. It was an attempt to get him to drop the blade, his last real defense. He spun under the arm holding him, relieving the pressure on himself and turning it back on the opponent, successfully freeing himself. Free and behind the man, he ran for the roof's ledge and swung down onto the lower level. He was, however, quickly followed far more smoothly. 

A fist, this time still attached to its arm, came toward his face, and he managed to duck in time to avoid it. The mask was not protective of anything but his identity, and after the arrow incident, he'd had to repair that one with tar used to seal leaks in the sheet joins of the Wani. He had no desire to be knocked unconscious again nor to have to make a repair to this one, they were hard to find in the Earth Kingdom. 

A swing cutting in at the agent's ribs was stopped in the stone hand, it was not wholly unexpected. But unlike previous occurrences where there was a play of pushing and fighting for control of the blade's direction, this agent twisted the blade back and forth, loosening his grip and grating the flat side of the handle against his joints. With a jerky pull, he managed to rip the sword away and was also thrown off the side to join its twin on the ground. 

They locked arms, and tried to throw off eachother's balance on the roof top. It might have been more successful if the Dai Li agent had not kept creating footholds by bending tiles level, only prolonging the dance. Leg strikes were the only available offense and here Zuko's shorter stature gave him a disadvantage. He got out by eventually bringing his elbows together, wrenching down, and breaking the binding mutual grip. This also freed the agent's hands for an attack. The next fist came aimed at his midriff, not quite winding him but nevertheless a shock to the system, quickly followed by a two-hand shove to the chest that he was unable to deflect in time.

Zuko's back made contact with the second-floor wall, his footing unsteady and uneven. The Dai Li agent pressed the advantage and clamped one stony hand to his throat, pushing his vertebrae back against the stone wall that had lost its day-time warmth. With both hands he fought the arms, extending his reach as far as he could but unable to touch the body of the agent. His right arm was caught and pinned away against the wall as well, hand useless next to his head. With better leverage, the weight against his throat increased and breathing was only short, tight, whistling gasps that barely let anything in. 

His one free hand scrabbled desperately against the arm, the hand protected by the stone glove and his own nails unless beneath his dark gloves. He tried in desperation to firebend, call up a flame or even just heat his hand enough to use as a weapon but without the ability to breathe, his chest felt tight and his lungs burned with a fire that would not come, he could produce nothing. As the night's darkness seemed to be growing he remembered his last weapon, and reached for his belt and the little knife that was tied there. Pulling it up and out of the hard sheath he twirled it blade up ramming the point into the arm holding him, it sunk just above the elbow.

Whether it was the lack of air or the adrenaline, he was acutely aware of the inscription facing him as the blade sunk into flesh, 'Made in Earth Kingdom' and it seemed very funny in the moment, so much so that his first sound was a harsh gasp that might have been a laugh trying to escape even as his lungs pulled air in desperately when the grip suffocating him fell away. Pulling the blade out with a sideways twist that opened the wound wide—it was perhaps unnecessary but with the burning through his airway it seemed justified—he slashed across infront of him. It forced the man to move his body back or feel the blade across his chest. An upward backsweep that would've placed the knife through his chin ensured it and set the man off balance as long as he maintained the other hold with his left. A final slashing motion across toward the arm, drove the man to retract his last point of contact from the masked and apparently feral person before him.

Zuko let his body follow the trajectory of his left foot which was sliding down the slope of the roof and folding low rode down to the edge, landing slightly less gracefully, less cat-like than normal onto the ground. He collected his dao from where they had fallen, and took off into the shadows of the streets from overhangs and food counters. The Upper Ring didn't have street patrols he would be safer traveling this way and could take some time to recover. He wasn't sure which direction he was going and would have to find a high reference point eventually to make his way home, which his tired and sore muscles told him should preferably be soon.

Crossing a street, he heard stone grating form the nearby wall, getting out of the way he swung up onto a roof right before two men walked out of a door opened. Taking the advantage, he leapt down, swords drawn, silently behind the pair just as the second even with his companion. An upward, inward slice cut through ligaments in their legs, as he came to stand. The handles coming toward eachother shifted out at head level, butterflying the blades as the pommels rammed just above their ears. With their legs already collapsing they went down disoriented or unconscious.

He observed the pair and looked back at the section of wall, the entrance that had appeared there almost indistinguishable. Normally, he left the felled agents where they were but this might be a frequently used door and it didn't seem wise to leave them right infront of it if that were the case. He began to move them. But it had taken longer than he'd thought to come to this decision, or else the traffic was heavier than he'd expected. As he'd just picked up the feet of the second when the doorway opened again. Revealing two more men. It only took the space of a heartbeat for the first to take in the scene and rush and pushed a disembodied rock glove toward him. He let go of the legs and dropped down flat, partially on the man's still senseless body. 

A slow hand rose to his back and swung out the dao as he stood back up. These were coming at him together. It was the first double attack of the night. And they were coming to him, for close combat. But a yard out they stopped, and he felt something was wrong the ground beneath him felt soft and he leapt onto the back of their unconscious comrade seconds before the stone he'd been standing on became a puddle of sand-like dust. 

He was standing very close to the men now and swung a circle of dual arcs around himself at them. One caught the blade and the ducked to avoid. He kicked the side of the agent holding his blade's knee, he crumpled with a shout as a pop sounded the other shot both of his gloves forward one directly at his chest the other to his right over the head of the man with the broken knee. He dodged left and right into a side kick prepared to meet him there. The shin hit into his upper around below his shoulder. He managed to maintain his grip on the sword at the end of that arm and brought the two to lock around the leg still raised against him. He would have broken the man's balance but for a column of earth that formed a boot around his grounded foot. He spun instead into a side kick of his own at the man's core and felt satisfied as the recoil of his body sent the man falling, twisting the leg into an unnatural angle before it could be released from the trunk. He brought a pommel down on the first man's head as he crouched into a recovery position from his kick, and turning placed a blade edge against the throat of the second before punching him hard in the face.

Breathing heavily, he set about quickly clearing the three men into a nearby alley out of sight from the door. Before the doorway was opened again, he was waiting above the place.

He took down the others that came much like he had the first pair, but he had developed a rhythm that timed his return with leeway to resume his position atop the pillion. After awhile, the pairs dwindled and when another hadn't come through in several minutes he realized that was all. He must have caught a shift change that had ended. This seemed as good a time as any to find his way back to the apartment. He was very done with fighting tonight and several points of his body screamed at him for rest.

Eventually, he finds himself on a roof high enough to view most of this quarter of the Upper Ring—it also just barely permitted a view of the courtyard of the palace—he’d moved around enough in the night to lose track of his relative location.

Looking out back toward where the newest apartment—and an actual bed—awaited him, he sees the tops of each of the inner walls and in the distance the mountain range along which the siege forces had approached. It was then he realized the other opportunity open to him. He was in the city—the center no less—closer to the palace than any firebender or Fire Nation citizen has been in over a century. Before him lay the whole of his family’s ambition for generations. Four generations had searched for the Avatar: Sozin in his old age, Azulon for a short time in his youth and had had sent out search parties during his reign in addition to the Southern raids, and Father for a few years before his marriage. But Zuko had discovered him, and now he knew where to find him, where he probably felt safe and would not be expecting danger. After the suppression of the Southern Water Tribe, Azulon had turned his sights on the Earth Kingdom’s inland regions. Uncle had infamously led the first major attack on this stronghold of the continent. Here he was, a few hundred yards from the palace. He could capture the king and take control of the city for the Fire Nation. He could return home as not only the captor of the Avatar, but the conqueror where even the Dragon of the West had failed.

The sky was beginning to lighten to shades of grey, time to get some brief sleep before he was again put to work in a tea shop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate writing fight scenes, they take me forever (though my beta says they turn out well, so I guess that makes it worth it), thankfully this chapter for all its pain put a serious dent in the number I need to write for this fic.  
> Next chapter should be faster getting out than this was.
> 
> If you were wondering, Azula and crew are in Ba Sing Se and she's got the same plan going as in the show. Although she's having the slight problem that her new minions keep dwindling due to serious injury from encounters with some masked street thief. She would very much like this to stop.
> 
> Thank you everyone who's commented, kudoed, and/or subscribed. As always I appreciate and love to see your thoughts.


	6. Chapter 6: You Take the High Road and I’ll Take the Rocky Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Jasmine Dragon's first day of business  
> Some consequences wave hello to Zuko  
> And whatever Iroh's plans were get ruined by two homesick princes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I stole this title from a Scooby-Doo movie's food joke. I am not ashamed.
> 
> So, slight retraction on the author's note from last chapter (because I forgot my own timeline), Azula was coming up with her plan to take overt the Dai Li during chapter 5 (which means the royal siblings were actually having a bit of mind-meld, which is scary in itself), and during this chapter is when she'd be laying the trap with Mai and Ty Lee, brought down to meet Long Feng, and delivering a scary speech to the Dai Li (which I imagine here has a much greater emphasis on not failing her as much as they have been).
> 
> Sorry this took so long to get out to you all, one of my resolutions was to write 2000 words a day, obviously that didn't happen; and also this chapter kicked my butt to write, particularly the end. School's back up so the posting schedule is probably going to get even more irregular, but I will keep this going.
> 
> So enjoy the chapter!

“Nephew.” The light thump of a door sliding open. He was only vaguely aware of the sounds, and light beyond his eyelids. He groaned and shifted so the light no longer tried to pierce into his eyes. “Nephew, are you not feeling well?”

“He’s fine, just being lazy. Little cousin, get up, we have things to do today.”

Zuko startled awake at the loud voice. “Y’m’up.” Tumbling out of the bed and noting that the sun was fully above the horizon of the walls, he let out a string of curses as he got dressed. Swearing was something he reserved for lesser annoyances, like over-sleeping and minor injuries that hurt more than they had any right to. Major annoyances—like anything to do with the Avatar—well that was what yelling was for.

“Where did you learn language like that?” Lu Ten asked sounding equal parts amused and horrified.

Uncle just sighed deeply, Zuko could hear his head shake in disappointment. He stiffened momentarily, letting the tunic fall into place, as he realized Uncle Iroh was there and now very aware of how badly his efforts to keep him from gaining a sailor’s vocabulary had failed.

Uncle wore a resigned expression that was disappointed by not surprised. 

He withered under it in silence as he buttoned the outer layer. “Well, you said we have somewhere to be,” he finally snapped expectantly to break the silence between everyone just hanging around. “Teashop to open, right?”

“Yes, yes.” Iroh said in that happy oblivious way that Zuko could never tell the truth of, then returned to the main room.

As Zuko entered the short hallway, Lu Ten handed him a bowl. “Hurry up with that. Dad says it’s called jook, smells better than it tastes.” Zuko began eating the gooey contents and followed his cousin into the main room and kitchen.

Lu Ten pushed a cup of tea toward him across the table and whispered, “You know, the trick to sneaking out is getting in early enough that you don’t look like you were up all night the next day.”

“I know. I ran late.” He drank the tea quickly, it was spicy and strong, ginger and ginseng. It was probably not something Uncle would make, he preferred subtler flavors, but it did wake him up significantly.

“My own morning blend,” Lu Ten said with a small smile. “Well, almost. There’s this roasted seed—Kakopi—from the smaller islands that people chew on to deter fatigue, Aunt Ursa told me about it years ago; but they aren’t available here, and I could never sell Dad on them as a tea ingredient.” Louder, he continued as they went through the door by asking, “Seriously though, where did you learn those curses, a ship’s brig?”

“I spent three years on a Navy ship.”

“Well, that’d do it.” Lu Ten admitted, but paused, “Wait, who put a thirteen-year-old on a ship?”

Zuko raised his eyebrow. Did his cousin really need to ask, wasn’t it obvious? “It was the most mobile transport for moving between regions I was allowed in. And I was in charge of the ship,” he corrected defensively.

“That doesn’t make it better.” 

Zuko decided to ignore this.

Uncle, however, chuckled and added, “The crew would agree with you.” 

Zuko, ground his teeth and hurried his pace to leave the other two behind him a few strides. The thought of his old crew, even if he’d never been close to any of them and was fully aware of how they’d felt about him, was a cold ache. They’d never found out if any survived the Siege of the North. Well, Uncle didn’t know, but Zuko had enough evidence to suspect. Iroh had been asleep when Zuko had seen it, the body of the helmsman floating, white with frost, by their raft. He had wondered since whether it had been worth saving him during that storm, only for him to die a worse death a couple months later. Noone he’d ever tried to save had been saved in the end. There was a chance, of course, that the Wani’s crew had been scattered among the fleet and some had escaped, but the cold feeling in his gut always chilled that hope. 

“Aww, Lee, I’m only teasing,” Uncle spoke, loudly enough to be heard from Zuko, just growled to himself in response. He maintained the distance he’d started until they reached the shop, so Iroh could unlocked the door.

They shared a pot of tea within minutes of entering. Uncle thought that there was nothing better than tea to start a day of tea serving. Zuko would have made some comment to that because it was really just begging for it, but the warmth felt good. 

Uncle Iroh looked out on the shop, light pouring in through the windows and people beginning to gout for the day in the plaza visible through the open door. “Who thought that when we came to this city as refugees, that I’d end up owning my own tea shop? Follow your passion, my boys, and life will reward you.”

“Passion is fuel for life afterall. Right, General?” Lu Ten says with a knowing smile down at his father.

Iroh looked fondly at his son. “Indeed. And that too is a lesson worth taking to heart, Nephew.” Then returning to speak to his son, “Though perhaps we should keep the general part quiet.”

Slightly exasperated that he apparently had two people heedless of their covers, although at least Uncle seemed to have picked up some caution, Zuko sighed quietly to himself but joined with a cheerful smile. “Congratulations on the shop, Uncle.”

“I am very thankful.”

“Yeah, it was fortunate that rich guy found out about your tea-making.”

“No, I’m thankful that I could share this special day with the two of you. It means more than I can say.” 

“Wouldn’t miss it, Dad.” He places a hand, unnaturally twisted but still somehow perfectly curled to fit on a shoulder, briefly onto his father’s. It slid off as he looked out through the door, where one of the city’s interior walls was visible rising above the rooftops, with an odd expression. “Could prefer it to be somewhere else, though.” 

Zuko wasn’t sure how to take Uncle’s claim that both of their presences were meaningful, but there was sincerity in his voice and Uncle had always seemed happy to nearby. He looked out, following his cousin’s gaze and saw people beginning to approach the new shop in interest. “Alright, looks like costumers are coming, these people will be expecting some tea.”

“Yes, let’s make some tea!” Uncle exclaimed excitedly, undeterred by Zuko’s lack of outright enthusiasm, and the three set out to the front of the shop.

Aside from a very different setting, and a new—much nicer—apron, it was really little different from any day before. Zuko fell into a familiar rhythm of serving and clearing tables and felt little change in the work, though it was hard to ignore the cheerier overall atmosphere which practically rolled off Uncle Iroh—or rather Mushi—the proud operator. 

Uncle started out the day in the front of the house, welcoming each of their first dozen or so costumers, getting their order and largely doing Zuko’s job, then bouncing back and forth to the kitchen to do the brewing. As the shop caught the attention of the public, however, he became occupied fully with the tea making. 

The newly-named Sen Su had then taken over as greeter, standing at the door, bowing genially to everyone who entered and chatting with them on the way to tables, occasionally taking an order. But eventually, after a few hours, he was forced by a noticeable difficulty staying on his feet to give up this task. Instead. He sat instead at the pai sho board, which attracted a few people to stay and order many a cup of tea during long games.

After mid-morning Uncle left his post among the brewing pots when a city guard entered and asked to speak to with the proprietor. Zuko hadn’t thought much of his entrance, off-duty guards had been common customers at Pao’s, but when the man asked for Uncle his heartrate spiked as he realized this was the first guard that had entered the Jasmine Dragon. 

Uncle was retrieved and the pair chatted, the guard offering a few thin scrolls. Nervously watching as he continued moving around the shop, Zuko noticed Uncle holding the forced nonchalant body language that had long ago accompanied interactions with Zhao. At the low table, Lu Ten looked supremely uncomfortable that his Father was talking to a city guard both where he couldn’t see and out of his earshot. His opponent won that game before Mushi finished his discussion. As the guard left, Iroh unrolled one of the posters and frowned at its contents before tucking it into his sleeve and taking the rest into the kitchen with him.

For the rest of the day, it was rather as though the interruption had not occurred, lost in the flood of orders to be caught up on. The rhythm fell back into place.

Zuko had gradually found himself with more and more work, as the other two moved off of serving duties. He almost missed Pao. This place was huge. He’d stopped going back to the kitchen, going back only to pick up orders or drop off used cups and pots. The role of greeter was going completely abandoned and people seated themselves. 

“Uncle, I need two jasmine, one green, and one lychee.”

“I’m brewing as fast as I can!”

At late evening, the crowd fell off into a few young couples spaced at privacy-allowing distances, needing less attention as that were here more for the space than the tea.  
“Hey.” Lu Ten said, appearing beside him and bumping his shoulder lightly with his own. It was something he’d used to do a lot, particularly at more official occasions, of course the height difference then had meant he usually used his hand but now their shoulders were of a level. 

“Hey.”

“Thanks for looking out for him, by the way.”

Zuko made a questioning sound.

Lu Ten nodded in the direction of the kitchen to clarify. “While I was gone. He had you.”

“Oh. Yeah.” He felt alittle awkward accepting thanks for that, as it really hadn’t been his choice. Uncle Iroh had come with him in exile even though he hadn’t needed to, and then Zuko had left him behind stranded in the Earth Kingdom. He wanted to say something further, something that he’d not said out loud before and meant, but he couldn’t form the words and Lu Ten spoke first.

“I’m afraid I’m not much help here, with any of this,” He looked around at the shop with faraway eyes and forlorn expression.

Zuko shrugged. “None of those people you played with would have stayed as long as they did or ordered as many drinks if they were just sitting. You could hold the tray while I clear the last few tables, if you want.”

Lu Ten’s face brightened, a mixture of happiness and realization that he’d been frowning. 

The tray balanced on his forearms was quickly filled with the last used cups, one pot, and several rags from wipe-downs. “You’re weirdly good at this.” 

“Shut up,” he snapped. “This is not what I want to do for the rest of my life.”

“Okay, I get it.” He replied calmingly. “Really, I get it. I didn’t exactly imagine this being my life once I got out. It’s odd being inside the city, it’s even more strange that we’re here and it’s not a thing.”

“All hail the conquering heroes.” Zuko mumbled darkly, winning a dry chuckle from his cousin.  
Lu Ten took the tray into the back.

The couple nearest Zuko realized this would be a good time to leave their long-finished cups and departed into the night. It was a few more minutes before the last couple stopped gazing into eachother’s eyes long enough to realize they were the only costumers left, they paid and left blushing.

“Lee, come into the kitchen once you lock up.” On his way back from the door he picked up the last two cups before going into the back as summoned.

“Congratulations on the first day of your shop Uncle. Though if I can sug—” But the expression he found was not the contented glee Iroh had been wearing most of the day. “What?”

Uncle dug the paper out of his sleeve, “We need to talk about this.” He unfurled it. It was a wanted poster, for the Blue Spirit. The drawing was not as accurate as it had been on the fire nation posters, but the name was the same 'Blue Spirit'. The mouth was squared off on the sides and appeared to be laughing more than what he thought of as the mask’s taunting grin, the fangs were gone. Otherwise, it was mostly right, the color scheme was there if the shape of the white markings lacked alittle certainty. The horns had been reinterpreted as a spikey crown of sorts. Perhaps he should have been more impressed by the memory of the men stationed at Pouhai Stronghold. The text at the bottom, listed that the menace was active in the Lower and Upper Rings, and attacked members of the esteemed Dai Li, the weapons he used were listed as primarily dual wielded blades and occasionally a bow and arrows. The style of the attacks was also linked to a theft made aboard a transport ship entering the city some months ago. The reward was higher than the Fire Nation posters too.

Somehow, he doubted what Uncle wanted to discuss was the accuracy of the poster. Or the increased bounty.

"Is this what you've been doing when you sneak out the last few nights?"

"You, uh, know about that?"

Uncle Iroh looked unamused in a way Zuko had not seen since he'd almost challenged Jee to an agni kai. "I've now raised two teenage boys, if I couldn't tell when there's sneaking out at night, I would be a poor father indeed. What were you thinking, antagonizing the Dai Li like this?"

"I- I was stopping the Dai Li.” That’s what it had started as after all, stopping an abduction, then stopping them from… well bending, from holding the city in the grip of fear.   
“Go Zuko!” Lu Ten chimed in from the side.

“You said yourself that capturing the Avatar may not be enough after everything. The Dai Li guard the Earth King. If I can injure enough, I’ll reduce the number enough to get into the palace I can get in without much trouble. Once there, I can force the Earth King to surrender. And I think that's where the Avatar is staying, since he's no longer at the house in the Upper Ring.”

“With Omashu fallen, this would be the final blow, the war would be won, it would be over.” The statement didn’t come out quite as confident as Lu Ten probably meant it to sound. 

Zuko wished he could believe that. He couldn’t help think of what he’d told Zhao when he’d presented the plan for the conquest of the Earth Kingdom, that the world would not follow willingly. He’d seen enough of the Earth Kingdom and its people to know that even taking Ba Sing Se would not make the country submit. Part of him wasn’t sure if peace was possible. The war, ended? It had gone on so long it just was, the world without it was something deep in history books and in the mythical era that plays were set in. But regardless of what it meant for the world, he knew one thing it did mean.

“When Ba Sing Se is ours, we can all go home. Father will restore my honor, and you will be cleared as a traitor. You won’t even have to leave the city or the shop, you could be governor here or something.”

There was a huffed laugh form Uncle that sounded sad. And he knew the words that would come, ‘ My brother is not a forgiving man’. He didn’t want to hear it again.

“He will! He has to. There’s nothing more I can do. I can't let this opportunity pass. With the Avatar caught and Ba Sing Se under Fire Nation control there is no question that father would welcome me home and fully restore my honor. I’ll have proven that I’m worthy of his love."

He heard a sound he couldn’t quite make out the emotion of from Lu Ten and he didn’t want to look. 

“And if you do capture the Avatar? And take him to your father. What then? What do you think will happen to that boy?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care.”

“Have you not thought of it? Can you not care about others? Because I think you can, I think you do.”

“Thinking about others has not gotten me anywhere except stranded in foreign waters. And my caring has never done the others any good. So why bother?”

"Oh Zuko." 

He bristled at the tone. He didn’t want the pity, or the understanding voice and proverbs.

“All your life you’ve been told what your life should be by others. You must think of who you are and what you want for yourself.”

“I’m so tired of hearing that! I know who I am! And I want my life back, my place in the world. I want not to live in hiding under false identities, as fugitives from everywhere. I want to belong, my honor. I want my family back. I want to go home! Why don’t you?”

“We have something good here.”

“No! You do! I don’t have anything here and I don’t want to. All I have is this last chance to go home with honor.”

“I have to admit, Dad, I know this shop has always been a dream of yours, but does it have to be here? You’ve always been infatuated with this city and part of me gets the draw but I can’t understand how that overcame your love or duty to your family and Nation.”

“This has nothing to do with my loyalty. And do not question my love for you. Either of you. But this is not the way to go about this.”

"What do you care? Have you actually looked at this city? It’s horrible. And these men are the ones that held Lu Ten in a dark cell for over half a decade, that... that... you know."  
"And that makes them worthy of attack? That is war. Do you think that we do not do the same and worse to our prisoners? You saw the prison ship off the Earth Kingdom. In the early days of my military career, I was assigned to oversee the prison that held the waterbenders from the southern raids, after an escape. The conditions in which those people were kept, bone dry cells in constant thirst. I should not have been so shocked to find that my involvement would result in similar suffering for one dearest to me."

"No. Don't you dare!" Lu Ten exploded, the flame on the stove flared high and hot, a few cracks formed on the pot that still sat above it. This was the problem with candle breathing, it was a double-edged technique, to control flame it required intention and concentration, but would affect any external flame in uncontrolled moments of emotion. "What happened to me was not some karmic punishment for your actions decades ago. I was there because I was rash and led my unit into an uncleared area of battle. I was captured instead of killed like the rest of my men because the royal emblem was on my breastplate. My hands were crushed because I didn't listen when they told me to stop bending in my cell. The past and present sins of the Fire Nation or yourself have nothing to do with it, and they do not justify it.”

“I never said it did.”

“Yes, you did.” The father and son held eye contact for a few minutes in intense silence, as though daring eachother to speak.

“Lu-”

Lu Ten closed his eyes and shook his head as he sat back down in a chair further away and didn’t look at Iroh, leaning his head back against the wall.

Uncle too had momentarily closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then turned back to Zuko. 

“It’s not about the Dai Li, Zuko. This endeavor is more than dangerous. I cannot follow you into this and I worry. I have supported you through a lot of self-destructive actions, no longer.”

“You were happy to help me get into the North Pole, what’s changed that you won’t support me now? Were you just humoring me because I’d almost died? Or is it that you can’t stand the thought of me succeeding where you failed.” He’d never thrown that in his uncle’s face before, like Azula would have, but there was no longer as much pain behind the event, just the shame.

As always, Uncle Iroh remained stoic in the face of mention of the Siege. “Much has changed since the North Pole. But my reasons are neither of those.”

“Yeah, it has.” Zuko said, with a tone of hurt understanding. He knew what had changed. Part of him hurt that not even Uncle could be proud of him, and that he couldn’t understand why.

“I can’t. I’m sorry, I cannot condone this course, Prince Zuko.”

“I know you think I don’t think things through, but I have a plan this time.”

“No.”

“Fine! I don’t need you anyway, and you obviously don’t need me. Just don’t try to stop me.” He stormed out the back door and into the cool spring night air. 

“Zuko!” The shout came from behind him through the closing door.

Footsteps came from behind him and he sped his pace slightly, but an arm wrapped infront of him stopping him from going forward. It was Lu Ten. He turned him around, so they faced eachother. 

“I won’t stop you—I wish I could help you—but be careful. Fighting earthbenders with fire is difficult. I know you’ve been doing it for a few nights now, but don’t get cocky. And stay light on your feet, they will use your root against you. I left the pot of ginger and ginseng on the counter if you need a boost before you go out, it’ll be even stronger now but could use a warming up.” Lu Ten doted and worried. 

Zuko tried not to be reminded of Uncle’s send off at the North, or to draw parallels to what fusing mother sheep-hens they both were. He didn’t want to think about the argument he’d just had. He just accepted the advice and support that he was getting with a nod and left once his cousin’s arm dropped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that happened. I'm sorry if that hurt, it hurt to write. Feel free to yell at me or rant in the comments. 
> 
> On a happier note, that's right, teenaged Lu Ten invented coffee, sort of. Kakopi is a mixture of the Incan word for cocoa, kakaw, and the Indonesian/Korean words kopi/keopi, which mean coffee; so I imagine the kakopi bean is slightly sweeter and nuttier than coffee beans but still has that bitter taste so inherent to coffee. 
> 
> As always, thank you for the kudos, subscribes, and comments. I love to hear what you all think of the story.

**Author's Note:**

> Some of the aspects to LuTen's imprisonment were inspired by LaserLance720's "A Life Returned" (the revived version). It's an good read, if left unfinished at something of a cliffhanger.
> 
> I don't know how long I'll follow this line of plot (I haven't been active much through college and I don't really have that much more time now in grad school, though I have an upcoming project for a different fandom so I'll be around), but I will put in at least another chapter after this, and the rest will come as it occurs to me.
> 
> Thanks for reading.
> 
> Comments are always welcome, let me know what you thought and if you want to see more of this.


End file.
